


The Sun Also Rises

by unreadable0



Series: I'll find you in every universe... [1]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: AU that no one asked for, Arranged Marriage, Denial of Feelings, Kuroro is sweet, Language Barrier, M/M, They don't hate each other, badass!Kurapika, badass!Kuroro, because it's an AU, but gets a little darker after ch. 8, he's just super soft for peeks here, protective!Kuroro, royal!AU, sexual content starting in chap 8, starts out really fluffy, the burn is short, yep
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:07:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15076787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unreadable0/pseuds/unreadable0
Summary: Royalty!AU. Kurapika just wants to save his people, and if that means going through with this arranged marriage with his sworn enemy, then so be it. As for what Kuroro wants... well, he hasn't figured that out yet.





	1. The Place Where it Arose

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter x Hunter
> 
> Hi! This one has been sitting on the back burner for quite a long time, but I had some time on my hands today in between my course load, so here we are. This is probably really terrible and incoherent and choppy because I wrote it over a few months, but bear with me! There's a huge chance that I might just scrap this idea and try again... but I guess I'll have to see. Anyway, I hope you guys at least marginally enjoy this!

Kurapika shivered in the thinness of his summer robes. The weather was fickle in the desert, he noted. When he had initially arrived, the cool breezes from the ocean had done nothing to ease the heat of midday, but now, with the sun receding behind the vast sand dunes, the temperature had plummeted. The inhabitants of the kingdom appeared completely unfazed by this occurrence, however. Their clothing was made of some kind of lightweight wool, adapting to the cooling air. Everything about them, it seemed, had been worn and toughened by the desert sands. Their skin shone the color of polished copper, and scars and burns littered many. There was a wariness in their eyes, too, ever-present and speaking of the presence of war, a war that Kurapika wanted so much to end.

His people would have called them barbarians, but he regarded them as everything but.

The marketplace he was walking through was still filled with activity despite the approaching night, with vendors and patrons alike milling about the narrow maze of streets, booths selling everything from preserved dates to glimmering gold bangles. It was a fascinating scene, Kurapika knew, and the scholarly part of him wanted to take the time to fully explore and immerse himself in such a drastically different culture. Absently, he wondered if he would get time to learn about their traditions and train with their soldiers, as he had done with so many other kingdoms...

_Ah._

He reminded himself that he had not came into the kingdom as just another distant diplomat, an unfeeling observer of another's foreign politics. There had been months before his arrival for that. Months of bringing forth propositions of peace and alliances to the king. No, he had been invited to the palace, into this land that he had once hated so deeply, as its the future consort and ruler. Kurapika swallowed down bile at the thought, and although he tried his hardest to distance himself from his past, to look at the people of Ryuseigai as his own, he couldn't help but remember.

Calculating eyes assessed him, taking in the light olive complexion of his skin, the pale blue of his eyes, and the uncharacteristic yellow of his hair. He was a rarity indeed, especially in comparison to most of the populace, and that was why he was being sold off to their king like some sort of prized breeding stock. Kurapika forced back his bitter pride, refusing to crumble under the heavy stares.

He was doing this for his people. His people, who had been so stubborn and unwilling to even let him step foot into Meteor City. Who had went so far as offering to fight Tserriednich by themselves, even though such a sentiment would certainly end in a one-sided massacre. It didn't help that once the Kurtans gave in and opened negotiations with the Ryuseigai court, the response back ordered the hand of the crown prince and sole heir of the Kurta Clan in exchange for joining the war effort. His officials had bristled at such a bold proposal, but they knew that nothing they could do would change their prince's mind. Kurapika was loathe to stand by as his men and women died for something as petty as past grievances.

He had agreed without hesitation, knowing that he was most likely signing away everything that he had worked for. He would have to let go of his resentment and quick temper and move on. Move on and learn to tolerate the monster that his future husband was.

 _Husband._ Kurapika inwardly cringed at the thought. The word tasted like bitter bile at the back of his throat.

His calm facade must have flickered, as the man next to him took his hand, squeezing it comfortingly before letting it go. According to the universal tradition, no one must touch the promised man or women except close family before the wedding, a rule that brought further sting the other man. Kurapika allowed himself a small glance at his friend from beneath his modest veil.

Pairo had insisted on coming with him despite the implications that it carried. Even with his fabricated title as his adopted brother, his presence caused no small amount of tension with the Ryuseigai people. The brunet was an able-bodied, attractive man of a marrying age. The fact that he was allowed near Kurapika was scandalous enough, and if they knew the truth, it would likely end in the severance of the treaty and the imprisonment of both of them.

The blond prayed that the length of his sleeves had hid their hands.

The contact was dangerous for the both of them, but Kurapika didn't let go. It was a creature comfort, he supposed, clinging to his childhood friend as he was thrust into a world of new.

Abruptly, the guards escorting him to the palace stopped in front of the gates. Kurapika took a deep breath.

This was the transaction point. Here, he would leave his entourage—leave behind his people, to serve another. Guiding him to the front of the procession with a gentle hand on his elbow, Pairo's face remained carefully blank, although Kurapika could sense the myriad of emotions drumming just beneath the surface. His companion kissed him lightly on the forehead, lingering there for just a moment too long. The blond gave him a small smile as he pulled back, eyes saying everything that he could not. With one last backward glance, the Kurtan diplomats turned and left, the bright red of their robes fading into the colorless desert dust.

He knew that he would see them again, during the wedding ceremony, but by then he was expected to be distant, almost unfamiliar, to his friends and diplomats. At least until this odd period of tension had passed. Kurapika wanted to believe that he would be able to return to his kingdom every once in a while, because he was still to be considered to be the reigning monarch of the Kurtans even after his marriage. He would handle all major political and economical affairs from his place at the Ryuseigai king's side, while Pairo would monitor his people first-hand. He trusted the brunet would do well with this, as he had been raised as a future ruler as well.

The remaining Meteor City guards lead him towards the palace steps. Entering the palace, Kurapika was surprised at its lavishness. Copper columns reached upwards to a glass ceiling, letting light from the rising moon to trickle, silvery, onto the mosaic floors. He was given no time to admire the rest of the atrium, however, as he was ushered to the massive doors to the throne room. Two spiders, etched into carefully-wrought iron, stretched out on the entrance, ruby eyes glimmering in the torchlight. There, he was instructed to remove his veil. It had to be convenient for the king to look upon him at his pleasure, Kurapika thought sourly to himself.

Kurapika steeled himself as the doors opened. Once he entered that room, he would be exposing himself to the full scrutiny of the Ryuseigai court. He crossed the threshold with the grace that was expected of him, and he held his chin high as he passed by row after row of nobles. Whispers immediately arose from the crowd, and he caught only snippets of it.

_"He's but a child..."_

_"... too fragile looking to survive... pity..."_

A small frown fitted itself at Kurapika's lips. He guessed that the court assumed that he could not understand their dialect, which was a fair assumption. There were barely any speakers of the Ryuseigai language residing in the Kurtan kingdom, if there was even one. The only reason that Kurapika had even the faintest grasp of the language was the small cache of books on the subject that had been hidden in the depths of the royal library.

_Hm. Maybe this will come in handy._

He didn't have much time to contemplate whether or not to keep his knowledge a secret when the throne came into view. Ice crawled up his innards, and Kurapika realized that the copious amount of meditation he had done beforehand could never have prepared him for this. His hands twitched by his sides.

A large part of him wanted nothing more than to seize the sword from the nearby guard and plunge it into the king's chest, consequences be damned, but that would mean bloodshed for his peoples. Swallowing down his pride, he forced himself to kneel at the foot of the throne. He placed a quick kiss to the back of the king's offered hand before letting it go as swiftly as possible, as if burned. Kurapika hoped that the murderous trembling of his hands would be taken as nerves, hiding them in his sleeves. 

"My lord," he murmured, voice coming out thicker than he expected, and something ugly burned in his chest as he looked into the eyes of his parent's murderer.

* * *

The devil smiled back, all teeth, and Kurapika shivered out of revulsion. The other man scanned his face, taking in his fine features and eyes smoldering with carefully restrained emotion. His grin widened, apparently pleased with what he saw.

Kurapika stared right back, and to an onlooker it appeared as if he was in awe of the monarch before him, but in reality he was glaring holes into the man's skull. It occurred to him that he hadn't really seen the king before now; even during the negotiations and meetings preparing for this arrangement, the man had always sent a representative. Faint recognition stirred in the back of the Kurta's mind.

It was the same face. The same one that he had seen glimpses of during the peace meetings, before the war. He remembered those dark, blank eyes watching him from his place next to his parents, the older boy smiling at him slightly when Kurapika's eyes met his. He remembered thinking it odd, that someone only a few years older than him was present in such a serious meeting, and unaccompanied, too. He remembered the curiosity that drew him towards the other, not knowing that, only a year later, the same boy would cause the deaths of both of his parents.

 _Kuroro Lucilfer._ He hadn't changed much in the past six years. The same scarily dark eyes, which now were sparked with amusement, the same shocking paleness—it made him sick. Only now a slim bandage was wound around his forehead, covering a new injury or past scar, Kurapika didn't know.

"My betrothed," Lucilfer greeted, words heavy with accent. His voice was surprisingly warm, mirth tinging the words. Kurapika mentally bristled. Was he taking entertainment from his obvious distaste of him? The king then continued, words slipping out seamlessly in his dialect. The blond caught a few words, but the way that the man had  _said_ them made his cheeks burn.

One of the nearby guards cleared his throat, addressing Kurapika. "The king says that you, uh," the guard-turned-translator paused, as if not sure how to repeat Kuroro's words. "He says that you have only gotten more beautiful over the years."

Lucilfer smirked maddeningly at the pretty blush that sat high on the blond's cheekbones. Kurapika's eyebrow ticked. Not only did this buffoon of a king not speak Common, but he had the nerve to  _flirt_ with him? Irritation replaced his previous disgust, and he had to take a deep calming breath. Right, he was technically his fiance, so he had the right to do much more than flirting. Kurapika almost lost it at that thought.

 _Calm down,_ he coached himself.

"Well," Kurapika said evenly, eyes never leaving the king's, "tell him that he has not changed at all in my eyes."  _Still a murderer, still an enemy._ God, how was he going to survive this marriage without losing it completely?

The translator mumbled back his words more or less correctly to the dark-haired man, and he had the audacity to laugh, something that evidently surprised much of the court. That is, if any of the shocked murmuring indicated anything.

The king shook his head slightly, a smile still fixed on his lips, before dismissing the court and his guards. Offering a hand to the blond, Lucilfer swept him from the ground.

"Come." It was a command, not a suggestion.

Although Kurapika wanted nothing more than to do just the opposite, he stifled down his defiance. If he had to pretend to be the somewhat-docile groom in order to save his people and end the war, then so be it. He would play the role no matter how much it pained him. He let the monarch lead him throughout the palace, all the while refusing to meet the man's eyes.

* * *

When they had arrived at the royal library, Kurapika extracted his hand from the other's grip as quickly as possible. The King frowned, but made no comment. Instead, he called for the translator, who came scurrying in through the door.

_Ah. So we are going to have a talk._

The King sat down in one of the nearby chairs before gesturing for the blond to sit down beside him. Kurapika hesitated, but the threatening flash in the other's eyes warned him not to disobey.

_"You are still angry."_

Kurapika waited for the translator to relay the sentiment back to him, thinking. He chose his words carefully; he had to keep his composure, or else the king might break the agreement. "You took the lives or my people. My people who were not even involved in  _your_ war. It was wasted blood and it now stains our history. So yes, I have my fair amount of anger, but I am willing to look past it in order to end this war."

The translator took a minute to reshape the torrent of information. Lucilfer's mouth flattened into a thin line at his words. He said something to the translator, words quick and rapid.

"You do not understand what happened, then."

"Your airstrike missed. You hit the Kurtan Palace, which was a neutral zone, and killed the king and queen," the blond said, voice becoming more heated. "I don't see what there is to  _misunderstand._ "

Of course, there was a lag as the Common tongue was converted into the Ryuseigai dialect, but that gave Kurapika a little time to calm himself. His advisers had warned him that his temper would be the end of him, and he was loathe to prove them right.

The dark-haired man studied him for a moment, eyes assessing him in a way so deep that it made Kurapika want to flee. He swallowed nervously despite himself as the king rose from his chair to stalk towards him. The Kurta stood up to meet him, not quite liking the fact that he was still quite a bit shorter than the other.

 _"If you think that the deaths of your parents were by my hand, then you are so much more naive than I expected."_ A hand rose to gently cup his chin, tilting Kurapika's gaze upwards.  _"Because like it or not, neutrality means_ nothing  _to the Kakin Empire."_  The man's grip tightened, tone flat and full of ice, all of its previous warmth completely gone.

The translator scrambled to translate, but Kurapika didn't need it.

The blond refused to quail under the other's potent displeasure. Confusion turned to realization at the implications of the other's words, and Lucilfer saw the flash of understanding in the other's eyes.

Releasing Kurapika's face, Kuroro smiled again, sitting back down in his chair. Kurapika unfroze, taking note of the other's quick mood swing warily.

_"Now, let's discuss something more pleasant, shall we?"_

He would never fully figure the other man out, would he?


	2. The Wind Goes Toward the South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika dreams of the past before he meets his future. And oh, does he hate the king's royal guard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter x Hunter
> 
> Hi! I'm back with another chapter! I actually updated this much quicker than I originally thought because I have the day off from my summer courses and job, so do expect the next updates to come much more sporadically. This chapter is kind of filler-ish, but at the same time it's kind of not? Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one!
> 
> P.S. Happy 4th of July to my American readers!

Kurapika's mind spun with the new information. Lucilfer had just insinuated that the death of his parents was not on his hands. That couldn't be true, could it?

Yet, the further that he entertained the thought, the more that it seemed to be a viable notion. airship that had crashed into the throne room had been manned, and not piloted remotely. He and his advisers had just brushed the fact off as intended casualties, but something about that notion hadn't ever completely clicked in Kurapika's head. Throughout the entire lead up to the First War, the Ryuseigai leader had pleaded with the Kurtan kingdom to help his country, stating that if the Kurtans lent their assistance, then they could end the war before it even started.

His parents had refused, not wanting to involve their people in another kingdom's war. Lucilfer had accepted this well enough, but he had left them, his face drawn and tired, with a warning that the Kakin empire would not take their neutrality well. Then the attack had happened, and his people immediately attributed it to Meteor City's bitterness at not helping them in their war cause. Or worse, it was a bait to get them into the war.

' _Because like it or not, neutrality means nothing to the Kakin Empire,'_ Kuroro had said. Kurapika could only guess that the airstrike was just a means to put the Kurtans and the people of Ryuseigai at odds with each other. If that had been the case, then  _god_ , they had been so stupid. So stupid to neglect Ryuseigai in their time of need. Kurapika recognized the wariness in the Meteor City citizens now. It was resentment at their abandonment. The First War had ended with almost a quarter of their population dead. A Pyrrhic victory. And now... now, as if to add further insult to injury, those same people would have to enter the war again, all to come to the aid of the ones that had left them to fight alone in the first place.

Had his people fought with Ryuseigai, Kurapika was sure now that the Second War would have never happened.

Still, a small, selfish part of him argued that the Meteor City kingdom had done next to nothing to make themselves appear trustworthy to the Kurtans. They were known as barbarians,  _thieves,_ that did nothing but kill and steal from even their own allies. The king, in particular, was rumored to be the most cruel. Stories floated around trading posts about how Lucilfer could kill a man with just a single look; how he had put out the tongue of a manservant simply for spilling a decanter of wine; and worse, how he had killed his own mother out of cold blood.

Yet, Kurapika could not reconcile the rumors with the man himself, and it irked him.

A bitter taste invaded his mouth. Kuroro had every right to be angry, to be cruel, and yet here he was, treating him with politeness and compliments. He hadn't gotten violent at Kurapika's accusations. If the tables had been turned, Kurapika was sure that he wouldn't have been so kind. The blond eyed the man in front of him with curiosity. Yes, the king was a bit of a mystery at times, but he had been nothing but welcoming so far.

And that only infuriated Kurapika even more.

That settled it, then. Kurapika would fix his parent's mistakes. Starting with giving Lucilfer a chance, if only to hear more of the circumstances that had led to the deaths of more than half of his family. He did not trust him, not yet, but he would try.

The king cleared his throat when the blond remained silent for too long.

_"So, has everything been to your liking here, my betrothed?"_

Kurapika snapped out of his thoughts, a slight frown flitting across his face at being caught unaware. Kuroro smiled lightly at that. "Yes, thank you. The desert is beautiful," he admitted.

_"But very different compared to your home, is it not?"_

"Different, yes," he began haltingly. "I am not used to so much... yellow."

 _"Yellow?"_ Lucilfer repeated, lifting a dark brow.

"In Lukso everything is very green. We do not have the ocean like you do, but lots of clear streams. Where I am from, plants grow to be the size of grown men, and trees reach into the heavens," Kurapika said, a softness creeping into his eyes as he thought of home. "There is also a lot more rain," he added, laughing quietly to himself.

The other man propped up his chin with a hand, as if completely enraptured by his descriptions. Kurapika felt his lips twitch upwards at the childish look of wonder in the other's eyes.

 _"I haven't visited Lukso in a long time. Not since before the First War."_ There was something lining his words—an emotion that he couldn't quite put a finger on. Tension settled in Kurapika's shoulders.

"Tell me about the desert," he suggested, trying to shift topics. Kurapika had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to keep up the tentative friendliness between them if talk turned to war. It was still too messy, too emotionally charged for him to properly untangle. Not until he got the full story would he put it fully behind him.

_"What do you want to know?"_

Inwardly, he let out a sigh of relief. "What can you tell me?"

A smirk, then.  _"The desert is temperamental. One moment she is calm, and then the next her winds are stripping skin from bone."_ A wicked smile curled up the other's face. _"But beneath the sands lie riches beyond belief. Everything that you see in this palace"_ _—_ he swept a hand lazily around the room—  _"has been brought out from all that 'yellow'."_ The king paused, then, as if contemplating his next words.  _"My mother always told me that the desert was the stem of all life, and so it was her choice whether or not to take it back."_

The unguarded look on the other's face made Kurapika stop. Gone was the arrogant facade, leaving behind something much more vulnerable. Before he could stop himself, the words tumbled out. "You mother?" His voice echoed with suspicion. The rumors he had heard, they couldn't possibly be true, could they?

Lucilfer's expression shuttered closed, jaw tightening.  _"I suppose you've heard the rumors,"_  he spat flatly.  _"If I ever find that infernal creature that conjured up such a tale, I will not hesitate to rip out his throat."_ The translator gave a little squeak as he repeated this.

Kurapika suppressed a shudder. Here was the violent side of the king that he had been expecting. The other man must have noticed the trepidation in his expression, because his anger dissipated just as quickly as it had arrived.

The king shook his head, regaining his composure.  _"I apologize. My anger should not be directed at you."_ Still, the dark-haired man refused to meet his eyes, simply staring at something behind him.

Something akin to guilt flooded his veins. The childish part of him was irritated by this. He had been so sure that his previous anger towards the other man had been justified, but now... now he wasn't so sure.

_"Come. It is late now. Let us retire to our rooms."_

Kurapika looked around. It was not so late that they needed to turn in immediately, but the torches  _were_ burning low. Regardless, he wasn't ready to drop the subject. He was just stubborn in that way.

He rose as Kuroro walked by him, touching his arm lightly. It was the first time that he had touched the other man of his own volition, and it surprised the both of them. The king turned to him, a question at his lips, but the blond silenced him.

"I will not say that I am sorry, because that will do nothing to help," Kurapika told him, voice serious. He spoke from personal experience. "But I can promise you—no, I  _swear_ to you _—_ that I will right my parents mistakes and end this war." His voice didn't waver once, and he was glad that his nervousness didn't show.

The other met his gaze, then, matching it with an intensity of his own.  _"I expect nothing less, my betrothed."_ Kurapika gave an involuntary shiver at the sincerity in the other's voice. A slight smile returned to the king's face, and he offered his arm, at the same time dismissing the translator.

Kuroro led him to the blond's designated chambers in a comfortable silence. They were not allowed to sleep in the same bed until after the wedding, Kurapika guessed, and for that he was grateful. Stopping in front of the doors, he turned to the other man as if to say something, but all words died at his lips at the mischievous look in the other's eyes. All the gravity from the earlier conversation seemed to have disappeared, and the Kurta wasn't sure how to feel about the change of mood.

"Well, good night," Kurapika said quickly, all instincts urging him to flee. The king's grin widened. Reaching for the shorter man's hand, he pressed a delicate kiss to the back of it, the contact sending a jolt up Kurapika's arm. He ripped his hand away before he could think otherwise.

The dark-haired man just laughed softly, saying,  _"Goodnight, my love."_

Kurapika pretended not to hear, turning around, partly because it wouldn't do reveal that he could understand him, and partly because he was trying in vain to hide the furious blush creeping up his cheeks.

Escaping into his room, he leaned against the door, heart beating erratically. His hand still tingled from the kiss.

Kurapika groaned inwardly.

_Well, this just won't do._

* * *

_There was a fire. The smell of molten metal and burned flesh knocked through his system, and he stumbled, still clinging on to the brunet boy beside him. Screams rang out through the charged air, full of anguish. The throne room, almost torn in two by the large bronze airship impaled into it._

No, no, NO!

_Kurapika kept running, faster now, breaking away from Pairo. Tears streamed down his face. Please, please, please. The heat of the flames nearly choked him, and smoke made his eyes burn. He dug through the rubble, not bothering to mind the metal burning his hands. Nothing. A pair of arms wrapped around his arms, pulling him back._

_"Please! No. No!" he screamed, voice raw._

_Pairo held him fast, quiet tears flowing freely down his cheeks._

_Then, the dream changed. A man's voice, chilling and cold, laughing. The arms around his waist slackened, and Kurapika whirled around. Pairo sank to the floor, blood staining his front, tears still slipping from shocked brown eyes._

Kurapika screamed himself awake.

He shot up, taking big, heaving breaths as the remnants of his nightmare still pulled at his consciousness.  _Right._ He was in royal palace, away from home. Pairo was safe. He was safe. It had all been just a dream.

The blond scrambled to get out of his sheets, stumbling to the baths connected to his room.  _But it_ _had felt so real._

Clutching the side table, he willed the last tendrils of fear away. It would only serve to make the situation worse. A dull ache sat uncomfortably at his chest. He longed for Pairo; usually, when the nightmares got so terrible, he would talk them out with the brunet, and like magic, they'd disappear. But not now. He would not be allowed alone anywhere near his childhood friend for the time being. Not until the marriage had been consummated.

He inwardly recoiled at the thought. It wasn't so much that the thought of intimacy made him uncomfortable, but rather that the idea of sleeping with a virtual stranger was completely repulsive to him. It seemed more like a business deal than an action of love. He would not fool himself into thinking that Lucilfer actually held romantic affections for him; at best, there was just a bit of lust that would usher the process along. As for what he felt for the other man... he had yet to figure out.

The blond sighed quietly to himself, playing through those thoughts through his mind as he got ready for the day.

When he returned to his room, the robes he had worn the previous day had been taken away, replaced by something made from the same lightweight wool that he had spied the other citizens wearing. The fabric was of a much finer weave, however, and dyed a pale blue. A small pang of disappointment ran through him as he realized that one of the last reminders of his homeland had been taken from him. Still, he pulled the clothes on, noting that the royal seamstresses must have gotten his measurements already.

A quiet knock sounded at his door, and Kurapika straightened his collar one more time before opening it, expecting to see a maid or a manservant calling him to breakfast. Instead, the grinning face of the king greeted him. The Kurta immediately shot away from the door, much to Kuroro's chagrin.

Nonetheless, the man's grin did not falter.  _"You look beautiful,"_ he told him, eyes taking in how the light hue sat nicely in contrast with his tanned skin. Kurapika barely managed to fight down his blush. A slight pout, of all things, affixed itself to the other's face.  _"You probably can't understand me, but that is fine. I quite like it this way_ _—I can speak my mind without you getting so vexed."_

Kurapika's ears burned, but he forced his expression to remain vacant.

The king smiled. "Breakfast?" he suggested, the word coming out with twisted syllables. Kurapika adamantly  _refused_ to be charmed by the other's admittedly pleasing accent.

He nodded silently, hesitantly taking the arm offered to him.

Breakfast was a quiet affair. Surprisingly, they ate in the library, with the large glass windows letting plenty of natural light in. Simple bread and fruit had been set out for them, and Kurapika was relieved at its plainness. Throughout the meal, Kuroro took full advantage of the translator's absence, making little comments here and there that had the blond caught between flushing bright red and wanting to stab a butter knife into the king's hand.

 _"You are absolutely radiant in the sunlight,"_ he had remarked, when they had just sat down. It took Kurapika a moment to completely translate what the king had said, but once he did, his blank stare into his bowl turned into a full out glare.

He couldn't let the other man get to him  _that_ easily. Well, two could play this game.

 _"I'm not quite sure what to think about you,"_  he told him in Kurtan.  _"You act so kind, mischievous, even, that I cannot quite see where your reputation as a brutal murderer comes into play."_

 _"Ah, challenged me at my own game, I see,"_ the dark haired man laughed.  _"I do not mind. Not when your language sounds so enchanting."_

Kurapika smothered his surprise at the other's statement.  _"Just what do you want from me? From my people?"_ he asked, more to himself than anything.  _"You could have made an alliance with so many other kingdoms that are more powerful than mine. And to ask for my hand, too..."_

_"Perhaps I should begin learning more Common. It would not do to have to keep a translator in the room whenever I want to talk to you..."_

_"...I just want to figure you out,"_ the blond continued.

_"...but maybe not. After all, I like being able to tell you how captivating you are without you knowing."_

The fork in Kurapika's grip bent slightly.

* * *

After they had finished, Kuroro stood up again, holding out a hand. "Come," he ordered, although his tone was light.  _"I have people I would like you to meet."_

Pushing in his chair, Kurapika brushed past the offered hand, causing the king to frown slightly. "Are we not taking a translator with us?"

Kuroro gave him a confused look.  _Oh, right. Language barrier._

"No translator?" He made a few vague hand gestures until comprehension flooded the other's features.

"No. We go" —he fought to think of the right word for a moment— "we go... no one else." Kurapika nodded, slipping his hand into the crook of the other's elbow as he waved at him to lead on. A smug smile lit up the king's face.

Somehow, throughout a maze of passages, they ended up in the throne room. The doors opened to reveal a small group of people—the king's guard, Kurapika guessed. At once, all conversation died as they entered, and twelve pairs of eyes turned to scrutinize every inch of the blond. Kurapika shifted uneasily under the new attention. He wanted to bolt, but the firm hold on his arm kept him frozen in place.

Finally, after several moments of silence, the tall blond man in the back gave a low whistle.  _"Well, at least boss picked a nice-looking one,"_  he observed. A few scattered chuckles swept through the party at his blunt comment.

 _"Indeed, he's very pretty,"_ a severe-looking woman with short, ashen hair agreed,  _"but he's so thin. How will he last the winter?"_

The man with a samurai sword nodded.  _"The desert is going to eat him up come the cold months."_  He turned to the king.  _"You're_ _going to have a handful to take care of."_

 _"Well, heaven knows that we'll have our hands full with the war. And this time, because of_ this, _"_ an eyebrow-less man nearly choked on the word _,_ " _we will be responsible for a whole other kingdom."_

Kurapika bristled at the degrading comments under his mask of cool indifference. How dare they appraise him like some sort of prized cattle? How dare they speak about him as if he wasn't even present? Perhaps, that was why Kuroro did not want a translator. So that his guard could pick him apart bit by bit without him even knowing. A flash of anger hit him then, and he was too wrapped up in his irritation for the other man that he didn't notice how the king had tensed at his knight's words.

 _"That's right! Oi, Boss! What do we get from this deal?"_ asked a monstrous man in the front.  _"We have to lend our men to another kingdom, and for what? A bride? A fragile one, too, that will cause nothing but trouble for us during the war. We just picked up an easy target, boss! This agreement makes no sense! We give them an army, and they give us another liability!"_

The Kurta's fists clenched at the harsh remarks, hidden underneath his robes.

The short-haired woman tried to step in for the sake of damage control, saying soothingly,  _"Uvogin, they too are lending us their soldiers, do you not remember?"_

 _"Those weaklings? I fought a few yesterday... put up a little fight, but not much,"_ Uvogin sneered.  _"I'm sure this one"_ _—_ he jerked his head towards the blond—  _"won't either."_ He smiled menacingly, and that was the last straw.

Kuroro shifted beside him, jaw twitching. Kurapika had taken the king's prolonged silence as amusement, but now he realized that the man was absolutely  _livid._ Not only had his guard insulted his future consort, but also his authority and decision making as king. But, before the dark-haired man could open his mouth and unleash hell, Kurapika placed a placating hand on his arm. He would handle this.

 _"You have every right to be skeptical,"_ he started, his own heavy accent grating his ears,  _"but I assure you, our kingdoms would not have made this agreement if we both believed that we would make it through this war alone."_ Only silence met his words, and he prayed that his accent wasn't so thick that they could not understand him.

 _"As for what I will provide for you in exchange for your men... my kingdom is small,"_ he admitted,  _"but the one thousand warriors that I am sending to you are some of our finest."_ He turned to Uvogin, voice turning flat.  _"Those 'weaklings' that you fought were but fifteen years of age, sent over to learn from_ your  _men. Truthfully, I do not know quite what to think about a famed soldier who delights in winning against_  children."

The bulky man just stared back, mouth set in challenge. Kurapika raised a delicate brow, walking towards him.

 _"And as for your foolish notions about me..."_ he continued, tone brittle and frigid as ice. He was addressing the entire guard, but his eyes remained trained on Uvogin.  _"...well, you all are not the first to doubt me, and you all most certainly will not be the last."_ Red-hot pride coursed through his veins, and he attributed his next actions to the heady emotion.

To the surprise of everyone in the room, including himself, Kurapika loosened the front of his robes, causing all but the king to shuffle back nervously and avert their eyes. Regardless of what they thought of him, heavy consequences were surely to come if they saw something they shouldn't have. To their relief, he simply yanked down the fabric and turned, revealing the olive skin of his back.

The king and his knights were completely stunned with what they saw.

White scar tissue slashed through lean muscle, marring the otherwise flawless skin. Numerous battle scars littered his back, telling what words could not.

All the guards were thinking the same thing. The Kurtan ruler looked painfully young. Seventeen, at the very most. But those wounds... only those who had fought for years bore so many marks. Just how old was the boy?

Pulling his robes back up, he said,  _"An easy target, you said?"_  he snapped, scoffing.  _"Perhaps... but_ _if you think that I would ever let my people fight alone on the battlefield, then you are so deeply mistaken."_

He faced the guards, taking a little pleasure from the shock on their faces.  _"If you still do not believe me, then I know how it works here."_ His hands twitched visibly by his sides.  _"I will not hesitate to fight each and every your doubts out of you myself,"_ he vowed. The Kurta turned to Uvogin, who looked thoroughly shocked.  _"And if you have problems, then you take them directly to me. Do not push your petty grievances on mere children."_ His voice had turned to a low hiss, holding promises of severe violence should his words not be heeded.

And with that, he stalked out of the room, despite never having been dismissed. Kuroro moved to follow him, but Kurapika ignored the other man. He could barely think straight with the amount of irritation that clouded his mind, anyway. Had he been in any less control of himself, he probably would have drawn Kuroro's sword and fought the guard right then and there.

Meanwhile, back in the throne room, the tense silence was broken by a cheery chirp.

"Ha! I like that guy!" Shalnark declared, causing Pakunoda to face palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) So just assume that the translator is in the room translating and stuff during the first part  
> 2) This whole fic is going to be super disjointed and stuff because of my absolute lack of consistent posting anf writing time, just fyi  
> 3) Now the Phantom Troupe has been introduced into the story! They're definitely going to make many more appearances soon...  
> 4) Kurapika is modest when he says that he considers himself passable in the Ryuseigai language. He is not fluent, but he has a good amount of knowledge with writing and speaking. He still has a Kurtan accent, though, which I like to think Kuroro sees as cute.  
> 5) I just have a bunch of different scenes bumping around in my head, so the next few chapters will mostly deal with building up Kurapika's relationship with Kuroro. It won't be until after the whole wedding shenanigans happens that the whole war story plot will come to the forefront.  
> 6) To clarify, Kurapika understands that the plot against his parents most likely was not the fault of Meteor City, which is why he is more polite and tolerant of Kuroro.  
> 7) So Kurapika just broke the language barrier, which means that conversation has more room to be more interesting between the two of them now that there's no middle man having to relay the information.  
> 8) Kurapika's dream is ominous, no? His nightmares will be playing a bigger role in the upcoming chapters...  
> 9) Next chapter will be a boatload of fluff, so get ready!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think about this chapter!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> unreadable0 
> 
> P.S. follow me on tumblr @unreadable0 for more content and chapter sneak peeks!


	3. All the Rivers Run into the Sea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika learns more about the man that is soon to be his husband. Kuroro is just being his angsty and mood-swinging self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Hunter x Hunter
> 
> Wow, I really hate this chapter. By far, this is my least favorite update that I have ever posted. I may rewrite this part later, but I had to get the exposition out my system before I start writing the fun romance stuff.
> 
> Okay, so this is chapter when we really start to see a character divergence in Kuroro--just a heads up! In this chapter and the following ones, he is portrayed as extremely sweet, mostly because he is trying to win over Kurapika. Also, because he's actually a good guy in this universe, despite his mood-swinging personality. Anyway, before I get a bunch of comments about this characterization, I would just like to warn all of you all before proceeding!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading this!

It took approximately half a minute for Kurapika to regain his composure, and he immediately regretted his rash actions. He really shouldn't have left in such a fashion. He had acted like an angry child throwing a tantrum, leaving without the king's permission like that. Yes, he had been deeply infuriated by the knights' comments, but he should have just taken the insults and remained quiet. Only a day in, and he was already causing trouble... he had to keep it together for the sake of the alliance.

He gave a quick exhale, slowing his pace. Perhaps he should go back and apologize. Just as he was about to turn around and make the shameful walk back to the throne room, he felt a hand close around his wrist, pulling him backward gently. 

He spun to see the king, and he blushed with embarrassment as he realized that Lucilfer must have had to follow him out after his outburst. Well, there went any positive impressions that he had given the other man. 

"I'm sorry," Kurapika apologized quickly, swallowing back his pride. "I shouldn't have acted so inappropriately, and in front of your guard, too. I hope I did not offend you." He scanned the dark-haired man's face for any traces of anger or displeasure, but he was surprised to see only faint amusement glinting in his eyes.  

"Offend me?" He laughed lightly, a sound that struck something in Kurapika's chest. He attributed the slight flutter in his heartbeat as relief that the king had not reacted badly. "Quite the opposite, my betrothed. I found your response not only justified but extremely entertaining." Ah, and there was the usual annoyance bubbling in his gut. 

"Entertaining?" the blond echoed. He had threatened to take down one of the royal knights... how could that be considered 'entertaining'?

Kuroro smiled. "Very much so. I have never seen my guard so shocked—it was comical." Kurapika couldn't help the amused noise that he escaped him, and he brought a slender hand up to his mouth as if to hide it. The other's eyes lit up at the sound, wanting nothing more than to hear it again. 

"Well then, I suppose if it's a source of amusement to you..." Kurapika trailed off, letting a slight, smile crawl up his features. He had no idea where the playfulness in the king had come from, but he certainly preferred it to his anger.

"Although, you never told me that you spoke Ryuseigean," the king continued, eyes narrowing a bit although his smile remained relaxed and easy. 

An alarm bell rang in the back of his mind, but Kurapika ignored it. The king's moods oscillated quickly, fickle as the desert winds. 

"I did not think it was very important in the grand scheme of things," Kurapika replied, stare becoming cooler. "And, if I had revealed that I understood the language, I would not have heard your guard's true opinions, am I not wrong? You must understand the position that I am in."  _The position you put me in._

 "Of course," Kuroro said dismissively, "but had I known, I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing a translator during our first meeting! Speaking through someone else's mouth is highly inconvenient." There was something almost like a pout on the other's face now, and Kurapika raised a brow.

"And yet you seemed to delighted in making little comments about me under the guise that I did not comprehend your words." 

The king smirked, bringing the Kurta's hand up to his smirking lips. "I would have done it regardless." A boyish grin spread across his face. "You are absolutely breathtaking, my betrothed, and I will never hesitate to say it."

A furious blush made its home at the shorter man's cheeks, and this time he didn't even try to suppress it. "You are far too liberal with your praises, my lord." He couldn't quite figure out what the other man was playing at, but he found that he did not quite mind. Despite the darker thoughts and warnings that lingered in the deeper parts of his mind, he found his previous hatred burning lower into just brief periods of intense irritation. Love was still far off—if he would ever reach it—but he felt that maybe, just maybe, his marriage would not be as terrible as he thought. 

 "I assure you that I speak only the truth," Kuroro said with mock seriousness, before returning to his usual demeanor. "Come, I have a game for us to play."

"A game?"  _He sure is full of surprises._ He accepted the offered arm nonetheless, letting himself be steered through multiple halls until they arrived in the library once more. 

"I understand that you must have many questions," the other man explained, pulling out a chair for Kurapika to sit in. "I, too, am quite curious about you still. We are both entitled to our own secrets, but I think I have a way to make you trust me a bit more."

Kurapika opened his mouth to deny his words, but Lucilfer silenced him with a small shake of his head. 

"You asked me to consider your position, remember? It is completely natural that you do not trust me—really, it would be naive of you to," Kuroro told him, a slight bitterness to his tone. "So here is what I purpose: you may ask me a question—within reason, of course—and I must answer truthfully. But in return, you must answer one of my own questions."

The blond nodded. It was a fair deal. "So will I be going first, then?"

"By all means." Kuroro waved him on. 

Licking his lips, Kurapika ran over his options. He saw it best to avoid any questions of the first war at all costs, but he still craved to know what had really happened on the day of his parents' death. He would build up to the question, he resolved. If Kuroro did not want to respond, or stopped the game, then at least Kurapika would have gotten  _some_ answers out of the other man before then. 

"I would like to know what you are getting from this arrangement. Uvogin was right in some aspects—you could have allied yourself with numerous other kingdoms, and yet you chose mine," he said, and paused, not sure whether or not to voice the other point that he had.  _Oh, why not?_ "You also chose me as your consort. Why? After all, I cannot bear you any heirs."

"You do yourself and your kingdom a disservice, Kurapika," the king replied, expression stirred by an emotion that Kurapika could not and would not dare to recognize. "The Kurtan kingdom was the most trustworthy option that I had," he revealed, "and what you may lack in numbers you provide in resources." Kuroro's eyes flickered to the Kurta's.

"I have no need for heirs," he admitted. "Surely, you must have known this, with how knowledgeable you claim to be," Kuroro teased, and Kurapika blinked. "In this kingdom, one must fight to be king. I do not mean to sound arrogant" — _too late for that,_ Kurapika thought to himself— "but truly, only the strongest are allowed to ascend to the throne."

"So that means that once you die...?"

Kuroro nodded in affirmation. "The process will repeat itself. Each sector of the kingdom will offer up one candidate, the most fit for the position among them, and the competitors will go through a series of trials that will culminate in the selection of the new king. I was selected by the former consort, and hopefully" —he looked at Kurapika meaningfully— "you will choose the next ruler as well." Kurapika cast his gaze downwards, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. 

Clearing his throat, Kuroro asked, "How about you? Your kingdom passes kingship through heirs, if I am correct?"

"We do," Kurapika said haltingly. "Pairo will have that responsibility now. Direct heirs are preferable, but with his tastes, adoption is a viable option. But, should I have gone through with my parent's plans, I would have married one of my childhood friends and she would have produced an heir."

Kuroro's mouth flattened into a thin line at that, and the Kurta was quick to amend his statement.

"I do not mean to be bitter about this topic, really," he assured the other, although he was not sure why. Why should he be trying to preserve his feelings if the king himself was the cause of his current situation?  _Right, the treaty._ "I would not deceive myself into thinking that I would be able to actually carry out the process of creating an heir," he confessed, flushing.  _Why was he even talking about this personal information?_

"Are you unnerved by the thought of intimacy?" Kuroro asked, sounding almost concerned. 

"No, not at all!" Kurapika defended, a bit too quickly. After a brief moment of blushing wildly, he recovered, shooting back wittily. "Was that you second question?" 

The king just made a pleased sound, taking the other’s hand. “Your embarrassment is hilarious.” Kurapika glared. “Yes, you can take that was my second question." Kurapika snatched his hand back, much to the amusement of the other man.

 _Time to delve into something messier._ "I have heard many rumors about you," Kurapika began, pressing on despite the flash of unease that appeared in the other's dark eyes, "and I cannot reconcile the awful things I have heard with this face of normalcy you have put up." Inwardly, he winced at his word choice as Kuroro's jaw tightened in warning, expression immediately hardening. "What I mean to say is that you have shown nothing but welcome to me—"

"I was not raised the way you were," Kuroro interrupted, effectively cutting Kurapika off. His tone was scarily emotionless, voice clipped and dry. "One does not maintain their kingship during a bloody war without their fair share of blood. Unlike your kingdom, the loyalty of my people is earned with every ruler, not transferred from heir to heir," he said resentfully. "We must seem like wild barbarians to you, no?" 

"You probably have heard countless tales of my cruelty—most of them are true," he conceded, laughter empty of all his previous mirth.  "But that is simply because you do not know that full explanation. The ones at fault like to pin their problems on me, and I allow it. It's something that I've accepted, now. Fear is the currency of loyalty, here. That is something that many outsiders do not understand." _You do not understand._

The underlying bite to his words stung like a slap to the face, but Kurapika figured he deserved it. He had been asking for the truth, had he not? "Your question," he prompted quietly. Kuroro's eyes still burned with a sort of undecipherable fire, but eventually he spoke, voice neutral. 

"Your back, how do you have so many scars? You've yet to see war for longer than a year."

Now it was Kurapika's turn to stiffen, but he knew that he owed the other man an answer. "The smaller ones are just little nicks from training. We start quite young, at ten years of age, and we train until eighteen. I spent much of my youth traveling to other kingdoms to train with their knights, so I suppose that is why there are so many." He wanted to stop there, to leave the story at that, but with the way that Kuroro's eyes bore into him, he understood he could hold nothing back. 

"As for the larger ones... war is all about fighting, is it not?" he joked dryly. He sobered, folding his hands neatly in his lap. "One day, during a particularly terrible skirmish by the borders, some of my men were captured. I could not just leave them. I sneaked into the Kakin camp at the dead of night and freed my soldiers, and understandably the general did not like that."  _Bhavimaina was his name, if I remember correctly._ Nervously, he bit his lip. "I got off lucky. It seems that he did not have the heart to kill me. So he settled for trying to break my spine." 

Kuroro tensed at that. 

Kurapika smiled dully. "He was not good at that either, it turns out. His blade was not heavy enough to do much else besides slicing to the bone." He rolled his shoulders back, as if remembering the pain of the wound. "I escaped, and I do believe that was when I finally persuaded my advisers to agree to this treaty. Now here we are," he finished, waving a hand vaguely. He purposely left out the part where he was left crying in pain for the next week. That was something that would remain between Pairo and himself, if he could help it. 

The king's lip twitched. "Perhaps if you had signed the treaty earlier, it wouldn't have even happened in the first place," he said in a jesting manner, although his voice sounded strained. With what, Kurapika did not know. 

"Perhaps." A heavy silence followed, and neither moved to break it for a moment. 

"I apologize," Kurapika said, "I did not mean for this to sour the mood so." Kuroro hummed, before laying his hand over the blond's as if to reassure himself that he was still there. For some reason, Kurapika let him. 

"I'm guessing you want to know about you parents."

The Kurta nodded, slowly. Kuroro took a deep breath, running a thumb over the back of Kurapika's hand. He was thinking, trying to collect his thoughts. 

"I, myself, do not know the whole story. I only have what I could guess from what Prince Tserriednich had threatened me with," Kuroro stated, brows furrowing. "As far as I can gather, the Kakin empire had been going through a transition of power at the time. It was a vulnerable period for them, and that was what my soldiers had been waiting for. I had explicitly ordered them not to attack the Kakin palace, but they disobeyed me, too tempted by the possibility of ending the war." The king paused, then, biting the inside of his cheek. Out of instinct, Kurapika reached out, clasping the other's hand between two of his own. He wasn't sure what had possessed him to do it, but it felt right, somehow.

"They wreaked havoc. The palace was nearly burned to the ground, and they killed the Fourth Prince's mother. Of course, that didn't sit well with the new emperor," Kuroro said sarcastically. "So he told me, 'an eye for an eye.' I foolishly thought he was going to attack this place, so I sent away my mother as well as other civilians who could not fight in a series of airships." Kurapika's eyes widened; he knew what was coming next. "I sent one to the Kurtan kingdom, hoping that I could sway your parents into taking in the refugees. Tserriednich got to them first." 

Kurapika could clearly imagine what had happened now.  _Kuroro's mother..._

He was about to open his mouth to ask when a messenger burst into the library. Kuroro's face went blank, and he slid his hand out from between the blond's. 

The envoy handed the king a message, expression troubled. The dark-haired man's lips turned into a tight frown, and he stood.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you now, my betrothed," he muttered, more to himself than to shorter man. Kurapika rose as well, walking forward worriedly. 

"Is it about the war?" he asked. 

Kuroro's frown deepened a fraction. "No. It's something else."  _Liar._ "Do not worry yourself over it," he advised, although the slight panic in his eyes said differently. Kurapika wanted to protest, but he bit it back. It would not be wise to trifle with the other when Kuroro looked so off kilter. 

"Okay," he said reluctantly. Kuroro brushed a distracted kiss to his cheek before he could react and quickly followed the messenger out the door. 

The Kurta sighed. At least he could finally have some peace and quiet. Plenty of time to mull over all the new information that he had just gained. 

* * *

Kuroro didn't return for lunch. Nor dinner. Kurapika found that he didn't really mind, aside from a slight pang of loneliness that he couldn't quite explain. He spent the rest of the day poring over the books in the library, the highlight of the evening being the discovery of a small collection of Kurtan literature that he had pulled out from a dusty alcove in the back of the room. It was only when his candles burned out that he began to return to his chambers. 

He couldn't help but feel frustrated at his disconnection from what was happening outside the walls of the castle. Back home, he would have never been shunted out from a war meeting in such a way. Kurapika felt useless for the first time in his life. He had known that he would certainly never be let into battle ever again if Kuroro's reaction to his scars were any indication, but now he would not even be able to keep track of the war from the safety of the strategists' table? 

Perhaps, once he had gained the other man's favor enough, he would be able to lobby for his involvement. Surely the king did not expect him to keep out of the war entirely? And if he did, then he was more of a fool than Kurapika thought. 

Pushing down his increasingly irritated thoughts, he prepared himself for bed. He would need a full night of rest if he wanted to keep his sanity for another day. 

Yet, despite the softness of his sheets and the lateness of the hour, he found that sleep evaded him. Every time he let his eyes close, flashes of nightmares played into the darkness. Pairo, crumpled onto the floor, blood staining the tiles bright crimson. His parents, bodies mangled and bent at odd angles, smoking in the wreckage. The flash of metal, the phantom sensation of a blade cutting through flesh. 

The moon climbed higher into the sky, shedding warped bits of silvery light from between the heavy screens of his windows. Kurapika became restless. 

When he could not lay in bed a moment longer, he pulled on an outer robe and lit a candle before slipping out of his rooms. Maybe he could return to the library to read a little longer, if only to calm his feverish mind. Quietly pulling the library doors open, he set his light down on a side table. He walked towards the large open windows breathing in the cool night air. He had meant to return to the text that he had picked up earlier, but instead he found himself watching the stars, mentally cataloging the names of the constellations. 

Kurapika would have been content to stay there for eternity, but a soft voice pulled him away from the sight. 

"What are you doing out at this hour?" 

The blond's shoulders tensed, before relaxing slightly.  _Kuroro._ "I couldn't sleep," he said absently, eyes still glued to the desert sky. 

He felt the other man stand beside him, and he unconsciously leaned into the warmth. 

"Nightmares?"

Biting his lip, he dipped his head. "You could say that." He flinched as a warm hand came to cup his chin gently, tilting it toward the king. 

"You need to rest." The weak light from the candle flickered, throwing off shadows on Kuroro's face. 

"I know." 

A sigh, then. "Come on," Kuroro urged, grasping the other's hand. He pulled the blond away from the window gently. Kurapika let himself be steered into the hall, knowing that it would be a lost cause to try to wriggle free from the other's hold. It was only when he realized that the other was following him into his chambers that he began to protest.

"What are you doing?" he asked accusingly. If anyone found the king in his chambers  _alone_... well, the both of them would never live down the scandal. Kuroro's lips twitched. 

"You must sleep," he replied, speaking as slowly as one would when addressing a child. "I will watch over you in case you have nightmares." He nudged the blond towards the bed before pulling up a chair beside it. Kurapika eyed him warily. 

Kuroro let out another sigh. "Relax. I will not try anything while you are sleeping. I promise."

"You do not have to—"

"I do." Kuroro inhaled sharply. "Just let me do this one thing for you. I insist."

Well, it was not as if he had much of a choice. Hesitantly, Kurapika stripped off his outer robe before quickly lying down. He hoped that the darkness obscured his nervousness. 

At first, he thought that he would be too apprehensive to even entertain the thought of sleeping, but soon he felt the familiar tug of drowsiness. There was something about the other man's presence that made him feel safer, which only further puzzled Kurapika. He didn't have much time to fully ponder the point, though, as the other man brought up a hand to card through the blond's hair soothingly. 

"You will stay?" he managed to get out, accent coming out thicker than usual. 

A quiet chuckle. "Of course. Now sleep, my love."

Kurapika wanted to reprimand the other about the endearment, but he didn't get the chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, whew! You survived this mess! (haha editing who is she don't know her!)
> 
> 1\. I'm trying to make this whole romance thing burn a bit slower, but I'm terrible at writing slow burn so that's why both characters seem very hot and cold. Well, also because there super paranoid all the time and don't want to get hurt.  
> 2\. Kurapika is starting to get feelings for the king?? Where did that come from? Anyway, next chapter will feature more of his inner conflict.  
> 3\. The truth of his parent's death is revealed! Now it's time for the real romance to start.  
> 4\. Please feed me any ideas you have for the plot of this fic, because right now the gratification monkey piloting my brain is the only thing holding this together! 
> 
> I love all of you guys for sticking with me even though I'm a mess and this is a mess! Thank you for reading!
> 
> unreadable0


	4. Yet the Sea is Not Full

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika grows a little closer to Kuroro, something that is completely thrown off-course by some surprising news. Basically just a short lil chapter of pure fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh so I know I need to stop it with the filler but welp this just happened. I made this honestly way too fluffy, but I needed it in between my planning for the next chapter of Help Not Wanted (no, I haven't forgotten about the fic). Kuroro is like downright saccharine in this one, but eh, you guys like it! Thank you all for your amazing support of this fic--it really makes writing worthwhile!

No nightmares. 

Kurapika blinked up at the morning light streaming in through the bronze screens. How was that possible? He had never been able to chase away his nightly terrors before. At least, not without Pairo's help. What had changed now? Sitting up, he caught sight of the answer, dozing quietly in the nearby chair.

The king had stayed the entire night, just as he had promised. That only served to perplex him even more. What was it about the other man that had such an influence over him? Carefully extricating himself from his sheets, he walked over to the sleeping man cautiously. 

Legs crossed neatly and hands folded calmly in his lap, Kuroro appeared every bit regal sleeping as he did awake. Yet his expression was so much more vulnerable. The slight furrow of his brow had smoothed out, and a faint, peaceful smile lingered at his lips. He looked his age, for once. The burden of kingship seemed lifted off of his shoulders, and for the first time, Kurapika realized just how young Kuroro was. 

Perhaps not as young as Kurapika had been when he started running his kingdom, but still too young to have had to see through multiple wars during just the first few years of his reign. Shaking his head slightly, the blond wondered when his disgust at the other man had faded into something more like sympathy. He sighed. He would have to face this inevitability soon enough, but for now he could just shove such thoughts down. 

Stepping away, Kurapika went into the baths to freshen up, hoping that the other man would just awaken on his own. Once he had slipped into a new set of underclothes, he quietly moved back to his bed chambers. With a slight frown, he realized that the dark-haired man was still fast asleep, completely undisturbed. Plucking up his courage, he strode over to him. He knew that the hour was already late, and that the other man had probably missed many court meetings already. 

Still, he found himself transfixed at the deceptive innocence of Kuroro's expression. It made something inside of him ache painfully with an emotion that he didn't dare figure out. Admittedly, the king was an attractive man, something that Kurapika had vaguely acknowledged earlier, once the lens of anger no longer clouded his vision. But now the fact seemed to throw him off-kilter. God, the warring emotions that welled up inside of him when he thought of the other man. 

Unconsciously, he had reached a hand out, brushing the other's hand lightly. Before he could even process his actions, he felt himself being pinned to a nearby wall, a knife pressed against his throat. Kurapika immediately stiffened, muscles tensing as he glared up at his assailant. Kuroro stared back at him, a wild look in his eyes. The whole exchange lasted less than a few seconds as recognition flashed across the other's features. The blade against his neck was taken away and the other man sprang back, as if burned.  

"Sorry," Kuroro muttered, stowing the weapon away into the folds of his clothing. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

Tossing him a wary look, Kurapika nodded slowly. The other man cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Did you sleep well last night?" 

The last bits of tension eased in the air, and Kurapika let out a breath of relief. "Quite well, actually." He blushed lightly before stepping a bit closer to the king. Meeting his gaze, the Kurta said genuinely, "Thank you."

A small smile traveled up Kuroro's face. "What for?"

He reddened further. "For staying. Last night," he clarified, biting his lip. The taller man's eyes flickered to his mouth, before returning upwards. 

"Of course," he replied smoothly, taking his hand. "Your happiness is my first priority, my love." He kissed the back of his hand, stare never leaving the blond's face. Kurapika's mind screamed at him to look away, afraid of what he might see, but he was stuck, riveted. 

Warmth and admiration stirred the king's inky irises, and Kurapika could find no ill intent in them. It floored him; confused him to end, that Kuroro could look at him in such a way despite just meeting him a two days ago. 

A silence stretched between them, loaded with thousands of things that went unsaid. The other's hand reached up to cup his cheek, and Kuroro leaned in, eyes dropping downward. Kurapika was sure that he was moving to kiss him, and he wasn't sure what to feel about that. His heart raced, like a frightened animal caught in his chest. Fortunately for his sanity, Kuroro got distracted, sight catching something on his shoulder. 

"What is that?" he asked, lips just inches away from his ear. Kurapika looked down at his upper arm. Right. He had forgotten that he was just wearing his undergarments. Whoops. 

"Oh." He immediately moved to cover up the markings, but Kuroro was having none of that. Gentle hands brushed his own away, leaving the tattoos fully exposed. "It's nothing to be concerned about," he said dismissively, trying to wriggle out of the other's grasp. 

Fingers traced over the intricate lines, strangely intimate. Kurapika shivered. "I am your betrothed," Kuroro told him, tone teasing. "Should it not be my responsibility to be concerned about every single thing about you?" 

"Quid pro quo, then,  _betrothed,_ " Kurapika shot back, both irritated and surprised by his forwardness. The man just raised his brow, a quick grin forming at his lips. 

"Always a bargain with you, is it?" The king undid the bandage around his head, showing off a delicate cross design done in black ink. Kurapika glanced up at him questioningly. What an odd design, and on the forehead? Certainly an interesting place to put it. 

"It's a sign of my status as king," Kuroro explained. "The kings before me always wore a crown to cover it, but i dislike the feel of metal on my head."

Kurapika frowned. "I have never heard of this tradition before." 

"Because it is a secret, kept between the ruler and his knights. It's kind of a identification system," he clarified. "Many high ranking members of the court have tattoos like this."

The blond frowned lightly. "Does that mean that I am required to have one?"

A slight smirk appeared at the other's lips. "As much as I would love to see a spider drawn onto your skin, no. You do not need to get one if you do not want to." Kurapika mulled the idea over in his head. It would not be bad to receive another one, especially if it would help him blend in more with the rest of the court. But a  _spider_? No. Those creatures in particular unnerved him. 

He found himself reaching up to touch the marking on the other's forehead, but quickly stopped himself. 

"You may touch it, if you wish." The king's voice was tinged with amusement. 

Hesitantly, Kurapika reached up, slender digits brushing against the tattoo. Kuroro took the hand on his face and kissed the inside of his wrist, making the other blush prettily and snatch his hand back. 

"Now, about yours..." Kuroro nodded towards the blond's inking. 

Without thinking, the Kurta brought a hand up to his shoulder, fingers curling protectively over it. "They are battle runes. According to myth, the designs allow the gods to gift their powers to us, giving us great advantage over our enemies," he revealed. "At one point in history, as is it said in the ancient texts, our warriors' eyes would shine bright red when they were filled with the power of the gods, and thus were near invincible in battle." He gave a little smile, then. 

"I do not put much faith in these symbols, but tradition is tradition, and who knows? Perhaps they _have_ saved me once or twice." 

"If all of your people have them, then why be so embarrassed of them? They're beautiful," Kuroro murmured, eyes alight with appreciation. 

Pursing his lips, Kurapika put a hand over the tattoos. "Each person's runes are unique. They hold meaning to each of us, and therefore it is an intimate privilege to see another person's markings." He colored at that, but continued to stare back into the other's eyes, daring him to push the topic. "You weren't supposed to see them."

"I understand," Kuroro said, moving away respectfully. Kurapika was surprised. He had expected the man to continue on for answers, or to force him to reveal what he had meant, or to tease him about his discomfort. "There should be clothes for you in the shelf on the left, if the tailor has indeed completed his job. I will come to collect you within the hour."

Kurapika furrowed his brow. "Do you not have war meetings to leave me out of?" he asked, voice edged with annoyance. 

"No," Kuroro responded, unfazed by the other's baiting tone, "I actually have been excused from any of my usual duties for the day."

"Why?" Surely, with the war coming closer to his kingdom...

The king took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for the Kurta's reaction. "We need this day open to finalize the details of the wedding." He paused, as if trying to gauge his reaction. Kurapika just gave him an expectant look. 

"You see, my love, with the war coming closer to Ryuseigai, my people are getting anxious, and wish to push the ceremony forward."

Kurapika's mouth dried. "Oh?" he managed weakly.

"I wish I could have more time to earn your trust... but the wedding will be tomorrow. I am sorry."

The Kurta just gaped. 

"Excuse me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well yep fluff. woah once reading over this I realized that this is super choppy and kinda boring. please let me know what you think though! comments really motivate me to write :)
> 
> song for this chapter (what I was listening to to push forth this fluffy monstrosity): You're in Love - Betty Who
> 
> follow me on tumblr @unreadable0 for more content/drabbles


	5. To the Place From Which the Rivers Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika gets more confused when it comes to Kuroro's intentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So this plot has totally run away from me, and I'm feeling super stranded in this fic, so do expect a disappearance after chapter seven if I do not get any more ideas. Anyway, so I changed the age of Kuroro to meet the purposes of his first meeting with Kurapika--so Kurapika is 19 and Kuroro is 23. Okay. Cool. Also, Kuroro is sickeningly sweet in this, but don't worry! He will snap eventually and act like his usual self (just not in front of the precious cinnamon roll he loves). I hope you enjoy this unedited thing!

"Excuse me?"  _The ceremony... tomorrow?_

Kurapika couldn't wrap his head around it. He had arrived in Ryuseigai under the impression that he would be given two weeks to get to know his fiance before the marriage ceremony, but now he would have to be bound to the man within the next day? And after the binding, he would be expected to lie with a person that he had just met three days prior? 

The king's frown deepened. "The ceremony will be tomorrow. I have no control over the matter, something that I apologize for." He paused for a moment, as if gathering his thoughts, before saying, so quietly that Kurapika was sure that he had missed it, "It would not be so bad, would it?"

He licked his lips nervously, finding that he had nothing to say. Kurapika wanted to protest, to throw a fit, but it was if all his words had dried up in his throat. The blond averted his eyes, turning away from the king. Confusion, worry, and childish frustration flooded his thoughts, and Kurapika could feel a headache beginning to drum at his temples. Kuroro seemed to take his silence as something else, and his mouth pressed into a thin line. With one last searching look, the dark-haired man swept out of the room, distress evident in the stiffness in his movements. 

The Kurta found himself staring at the door that Kuroro had just fled through for several minutes, lost in thought. Snapping out of it, he started to make his way over to the shelf next to the bed, going through the steps of dressing himself in a slow, robotic fashion. Hands mindlessly fixing the clasps that held his robe together, he tried to rationalize his roaring emotions. 

Yes, the idea of marrying a total stranger was repulsive to him, but the king was not entirely a stranger now, was he? In just the past two days, Kurapika felt that he had become much more comfortable around him. And although he did not trust Kuroro completely yet, he had promised himself that he would try, had he not? The advancement of the wedding would only solidify the alliance between their two kingdoms quicker, so what excuses did he have to be so apprehensive?

He ran the last thought over and over in his head, trying to convince himself. Still, the uneasiness inside of him did not leave, and he felt sick. After the wedding it would become real. His choice to be stuck in a political marriage would be irreversible. If the previous day had been any indication, he would be left out of the war completely, his title of consort only reinforcing his role away from the battlefield. 

That point stung. He had been raised as a warrior; he had trained as a general, so that he might serve his kingdom before ascending the throne. And now, he was expected to just sit back as his people and his husband's people fought a war without him. Shame filled him as he imagined what his parents would think of him then. 

All too soon, a quiet knock was heard at the door, and Kurapika moved mechanically, opening the door. To his surprise, it was not the king that came to collect him, but a maid. That only served to dampen his mood. Perhaps the king had been so kind to him the past night because he had been trying to soften him up for the news. 

Attempting to dismiss the pit of disappointment in his stomach, he obediently followed the woman through the maze of halls to what he assumed was the king's study. Inside, Kuroro sat behind an ornate desk, speaking impatiently with the head priest. His eyes softened slightly when he caught sight of Kurapika, who thanked the maid tonelessly before slipping silently into the chair positioned beside the king. A hand reached for his own, but Kurapika didn't notice. 

The priest prattled on about choosing the colors of the drapery, or the positioning of the torches, or the point in the ceremony where the gifts would be presented to the royal couple. An entire hour was devoted to selecting the types of meat to serve at the banquet, and another was set aside for discussion on whether or not the two wished to have two separate events for their respective kingdoms (the answer was a resounding ' _no'_ ). Kurapika drowned it all out, only nodding and smiling emptily when it was deemed appropriate. 

Instead of fretting over the number of jasmine sprigs that would have to be imported for the decoration, Kurapika worried about the war. His heart ached for his kingdom. It had only been two days since he had been cut off from them, but it felt like two millennia. And during a war, it might as well have been. He had hoped to meet with his advisers in secret before they left, after the wedding, but now such a notion seemed impossible. 

Meanwhile, the priest continued to speak volumes about the type of dishware to provide—bronze or glass? Kurapika knew that he had to leave before he snapped and let all of his anxiety and restlessness completely cut down any talk of weddings with a sharp remark. Feigning ill, he excused himself, ignoring the look of concern that flashed over the king's features. He had to get out of the room, away from the stuffy air full of talk about a future that he wasn't ready for. 

There was a balcony a couple of halls away that overlooked the gardens, and Kurapika rushed to it. He took a deep breath of the arid desert air, missing the fragrant breezes of his home. Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes. His worries about the wedding were beginning to mix with his fears about the war, and it was starting to become difficult to separate the two. Heavens, he was a mess. 

Footsteps sounded quietly from behind him, and Kurapika straightened at once, tensing. He expected Kuroro to chide him for departing so abruptly, and he knew that he deserved it. 

Instead, the king said quietly, "She died on that airship, too." The dark-haired man joined him on the balcony, and Kurapika turned to face him. He was surprised by the rawness in the other's expression, the same vulnerability from their first meeting bleeding into Kuroro's eyes. A small pang of  _something_ tugged at his chest, and the frustration and uneasiness inside of Kurapika diminished. "My mother. You weren't the only one that lost that day."

The blond didn't have much experience with comforting people, but he lifted a hand, laying it on the other's cheek gently. Kuroro leaned into the touch. 

"I know." His voice was barely above a whisper. "I know." 

There was a minute of silence, then, before Kuroro took Kurapika's hand and kissed it, squeezing it between two of his own. "Is this arrangement really so painful to you? Is it so repulsive to be bound to this land?"  _To me?_

Kurapika was tempted to say yes, just to see what would happen, but he felt the truth edging up his tongue. "I knew what I agreed to when I signed that treaty," he said carefully. The anguish in the other's eyes sharpened, although his face remained impassive. 

"That does not answer the question, my love." Something inside of the Kurta ticked at the endearment. 

"It is all too sudden. I do not trust you, not yet," Kurapika told him truthfully. "I scarcely know you, and yet you act like you hold affections for me. You confuse me," he claimed, tone slightly accusing. He sighed, looking away. "What I mean is  _no,_ it is not the idea of this marriage that makes me so apprehensive." 

"Then what is it?" the king demanded, gripping both of his hands. "What must I do to lessen your burdens? I do not want you to be unhappy here."

Kurapika peered up at him, looking hesitant and then determined. "I know you will probably never permit me to fight again" —Kuroro stiffened slightly, which only confirmed his words— "but I want to be kept informed of what is happening in the war, at least. I want to be able to continue managing my army's battle plans."

"I was hoping that you would not ask for that," the other admitted. Kurapika raised an eyebrow. 

"Well, then you don't know me as well as you think," he remarked. Kuroro made a noise of protest at that. 

"I will make it so that you can join me during war meetings," the king proposed, although he looked reluctant, "but I will have to see about the fighting part." 

The Kurta smiled at that. "Good. Because you do know that I would have found a way into the war with or without your permission. And I guarantee that this way is a lot safer." In reality, he would have been stuck if Kuroro had denied his request, as he would not have wanted to risk the treaty. If he died, especially while doing something that Kuroro had not allowed him to, the alliance between their kingdoms would most likely crumble. 

"You would not disobey me." It wasn't a question, really, more of a statement. If it weren't for the worry that hung on the other's features, Kurapika would have been offended. 

"I would do anything for my people," he replied fiercely, "do not forget that, my lord." 

Kuroro's eyes hardened dangerously, but when Kurapika made no show of being intimidated, his face dropped its harsh facade. Stepping even closer to the other man, he cupped the blond's chin, murmuring, "If I had my way, you would not have to deal with this war at all. You may not know it fully yet, but war is terrible. It destroys you, your people,  _everything._ It will _break_ you." He sighed, breath ghosting the other's cheek, and suddenly Kurapika was aware of how close he was to Kuroro. The scent of cloves and something distinctly masculine hit his senses, making him faintly dizzy. 

"I just want to protect you," Kuroro confessed, voice pleading. Kurapika shook his head slightly and placed a hand on the man's chest, although he made no move to push Kuroro away.  

"You don't have to."

The king's gaze dipped down to the blond's lips, and he leaned in closer. Kurapika knew that he should have backed away then, before it went too far, but a small part of him wavered. That part of him wanted to press even closer, and wondered how the smooth leather of the other's gloves would feel against his skin. That part of him was completely and terrifyingly irrational, and Kurapika had absolutely no idea where it had come from, or when it had developed. 

The blond felt rooted to the spot, and he did nothing as Kuroro's mouth moved to hover just millimeters over his own. The other man brushed his lips against Kurapika's, feather-light, and all at once the touch was too much and too little. For a moment, the two of them just stayed there, Kurapika's eyes fluttering closed, and then the nearing sound of footsteps caused the king to move away. 

Unwillingly, Kuroro slid his hand from the other's face, although it remained curled possessively on Kurapika's upper arm. Scarcely a moment later, a messenger appeared, eyes widening has he came to the conclusion that he had just interrupted an intimate moment. 

"The high priest wishes for you to return to finish the planning of the ceremony tomorrow, if all possible," he told them nervously as Kuroro's eyes narrowed. 

"Tell Burhan that he may finish the rest of the details as he sees fit," the king commanded, "I do not see a reason why we must be present when he has already decided how the wedding must run himself." The messenger nodded quickly and left, all too glad to be away from the irritated ruler. As soon as they were alone, Kuroro pulled him nearer again, as if picking up where they had left off. 

Kurapika's mind was a bit clearer now, and he pushed the other away. "Please, you are confusing me."

"What is there to be confused about, my love?" Kuroro asked, eyes still fixated on his lips. 

The Kurta frowned. "Do not call me your 'love'. You barely know me. Why is it that you think that you could possibly claim to love me when you met me just a few days ago? You are making things much more difficult."

A mischievous expression flitted over the other's face. "More difficult?" He effectively breached Kurapika's personal space once again, pinning him against the balcony railing. "You would prefer me to act indifferent and cold?"

"That would be easier to accept," Kurapika stated coolly, refusing to be cowed. 

"Well, I guess it is unfortunate for you that I am selfish," the king replied, smile widening, "and I will continue to 'claim to love you' whether it confuses you or not."

"You cannot possibly—"

"—love you?" Kuroro finished. "Do you really think so lowly of me? That you would assume that I brought you here as just some sort of collateral for this alliance?"

"But was that not your intention?" he challenged, irritated at the confusion that continued to well up in him. Kurapika loathed not understanding things... and not even understanding his own emotions? "Before this, you had only seen me a few times in court, and that was when we were still children." At least, that was what he believed. Everything before his parent's death was a kind of haze, like a kind of rose-tinted story that he only cared to remember bits of.

"You really don't remember, do you?"

Kurapika's eyebrows furrowed. "Remember what?" 

The king's eyes flashed with something imperceptible, smile wavering. "It's nothing." He pulled away, offering his arm. "Come, I do believe that it is about time for dinner."

Huffing lightly, Kurapika accepted his hand. He could never quite figure out the other's fluctuated moods. 

Still, something stirred in the deeper parts of his mind.  _A memory, maybe?_

* * *

There was a strangeness that hung between them during the entire meal, with Kuroro throwing offhand remarks and Kurapika responding with careful, brief answers. The blond knew that something was off with the other man, something that the king hadn't quite shaken off like he normally did. He racked his brain in an attempt to pinpoint what he possibly could have said to upset Kuroro so. 

The odd tenseness followed as Kuroro lead him back to his rooms. It left Kurapika on edge, and he hoped that the stiffness in his posture didn't betray his nerves. Once they reached the doors to his chambers, he turned to face the other man, hands worrying the hem of his sleeve. 

"I apologize," he began haltingly.  _Why was he always apologizing?_ "I did not mean to offend you with my words earlier. Believe me when I say that I want to make this union as agreeable for the both of us." The unreadable emotion in Kuroro's eyes lessened some. 

"I was being difficult as well, my betrothed," the king admitted, taking his hand softly before letting go. "If you do not wish for me to continue showing you my affections, then I will respect your wishes."

Kurapika could feel a blush crawl up his neck, and he thanked the low torchlight that hid it. "They confuse me, that is all." Kuroro's expression dampened a notch. "Perhaps after the binding, it will be more appropriate."

It would never be appropriate, never feel  _right,_ Kurapika knew. At least, not for a long time. Not until he had fully cracked the cipher that was Kuroro Lucilfer. 

"Well then, it is fortunate for me that the ceremony is tomorrow," Kuroro replied, some of his old humor returning. He kissed Kurapika's forehead. "Until then, my betrothed." And with that, the king walked away.

Kurapika had half the mind to call him back, childishly thinking of the nightmares that might return without Kuroro's presence, but then he thought better of it. He would be fine for just one night.

Later, with the moon fully risen in the sky, Kurapika woke to the sound of his own ragged screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Kurapika is pretty confused still because he's under the impression that Kuroro is just mysteriously claiming to love him with an ulterior motive. But is he right?
> 
> 2\. This fic is going to see the rise of my indulgent fave: protective Kuroro
> 
> 3\. So this chapter is probably really incoherent, because I was honestly blind and sleep deprived throughout this entire thing
> 
> 4\. Childhood meetings make me melt, so I'll probably delve into Kuroro's memories next chapter, just as a little intermission between the wedding and this chapter. Also because I'm screwed for wedding ideas. If you guys have any small details you want to see included in this fic or in the wedding chapter, please let me know!
> 
> 5\. Kurapika's vague memory is just due to him growing up, yes, and also because he chooses to remember only what he wants to from the period before his parent's death, kind of like a coping mechanism (?) Guys this is totally not how this works but please roll with it!
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading and lending your amazing support! I love and cherish all of you!
> 
> unreadable0


	6. There they return again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little insight on Kuroro's first meetings with Kurapika, as well as the events leading up to the arranged marriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I kind of abandoned this thing for a few weeks, but I'm back with another chapter! This one was supposed to be really short, but it kind of became a monster and got longer than my other chapters. Whoops. Anyway, there are probably a million mistakes in this, because I'm rushing to post this one, but eh. Anyway, prepare yourself for some fluff, angst, and a pinch of adorableness because Kuroro as a child is a blessing.
> 
> ** I went back and read through this again and fixed some grammatical errors... yeesh the number of problems I found--embarrassing!

_Kuroro is nine when he first sees him._

_It's his first time in court, and he fights the urge to cling to his mother's arm as he wades through the crowd of nobles towards a pair of towering bronze doors. He has been brought, along with the other promising contenders for the throne, for a kind of trial run. A taste of what his duties as king might be like. And he is oh, so nervous. His mother depends on the generous pension that he is given by the king in return for his compliance in his grooming as a potential ruler. If he slips up now, what would become of them?_

_Peering through a crack between the double doors, his feels his heart beat a little faster when he sees that most of Ryuseigai's allies have already gathered. There is only one kingdom that is very obviously absent, and he can see the royal advisers eyeing their place apprehensively. He feels a slight tug at his robes, and he steps away from the entrance._

_A guard brushes past them, bowing intricately before leading them through the entrance. Kuroro can feel a wrinkle forming between his brows as he frowns anxiously, but a comforting hand on his shoulder pulls him out of it._

_His mother smiles at him, warm and reassuring, and Kuroro steels himself._

_He is not supposed to talk during the period. He needs only to observe and familiarize himself with the courtly proceedings, so the boy concludes that he must simply avoid falling asleep and he will meet the king's standards. This thought reassures him, and Kuroro walks into the long hall with his chin held high. A sea of faces turn to watch them, and Kuroro can almost_  feel _the numerous scrutinizing eyes boring into him. Finding his seat, he wills his hands to stop trembling._ _He can do this. How hard is it to stay awake for a few hours, anyway?_

_Then a graying king from a neighboring kingdom opens with a discussion on the restructuring of their cotton-trading system, and Kuroro can feel his eyelids starting to droop. The king, too, looks vastly disinterested, and he wants to just yell at them that the only way to avoid the thieves in the west port is to change their route to meet at Whale Island, which is safer by far and situated cleanly between their two lands. There are barriers that prevent this from happening, he knows, but he supposes that the wording of one of the island's clauses regarding the admission of foreign vessels into their ports could be twisted around a little. He also knows that if he were to just stand up and sprout out everything that he had just contemplated, he would be promptly kicked out of court._

_Just as he is about to nod off again, he hears a collective murmur arise from the assembly. Looking towards the doors, his blinks when he realizes that the last kingdom must have arrived. The gathered ambassadors and foreign kings whisper among themselves as the newcomers proceed to their designated spots._

_Kuroro's eyes widen as he takes them in. The group is dressed in bright reds and blues, fabrics stitched into intricate designs that seem to move as the clothing shifts. Men and women alike wear delicate jewelry made of polished river stones and woven reeds, and their lightly tanned skin and willowy bone structure make them appear almost like faeries in comparison to the rest of the court. They're beautiful, that is for sure, but there is something untouchable about them that seems to make the rest of the court uneasy._

_The Kurtans._

_He should stop staring, but he cannot seem to tear his eyes away from them. Especially when he spies a small boy only a few years younger than himself being tugged along by his mother. His mother, the queen._ Ah, so this must be the prince,  _Kuroro muses to himself. He attributes his interest in the other boy as simply curiosity, but he cannot shake of the creeping feeling that seems to draw him to the blond._

_Then the young prince seems to look directly at him, bright blue eyes full of intelligence. Kuroro's breath catches._

_There's a stir of protectiveness that arises in his stomach, and Kuroro is confused._

_A few hours later, the debate draws to a close and Kuroro and the other contenders are dismissed. Retiring to his quarters, he tunes out his mother's excited chatter, mind straying to a certain pair of eyes that had entranced him so._

* * *

_It's three years later when Kuroro glimpses that blond boy for the second time. He's hiding from his tutors again, this time sneaking out into the royal gardens, when he spots the prince sitting crossed-legged in the dirt, caring dutifully for a plot of desert flowers. The king of Meteor City has opened up the palace to their foreign allies for the spring season, so Kuroro guesses that is the reason for the other's presence._

_For a moment, he considers just staying in his concealed place behind a tree, but then he thinks better of it. The pull of the other boy is just too strong not to want to approach him, so he slips out of his hiding place._

_If the blond boy  is startled by his sudden appearance, he doesn't show it._

_"Hello," he greets brightly, turning his attention away from the plant he is pruning._

_"Hi," Kuroro replies dumbly. His words seem to have stopped working. Common is such a fickle language, and he only knows a little. He's too busy noticing the light freckles that dust the other's nose, anyway._ Cute. 

_The boy seems to ignore his awkwardness. "I'm Curapikt. What's your name?"_

_Kuroro blinks at the tangle of syllables that flow past the other's lips so easily. The vowels and consonants seem to just jumble together in his head, and yet they come out seamlessly from the boy's lips. "Cura-Curapik—agh! I call you Kurapika?"_

_Kurapika shrugs, smiling. "Whatever works better for you," he answers sweetly. "You never told me your name, though."  Kuroro flushes a bit._

_"Not much important," he says, fumbling a bit with his words. "Can't be here," he reveals, gesturing to the gardens. "Talking...you."_

_The Kurta just lifts a delicate brow, suspicion coloring his voice. "You're not a criminal, are you?"_

_It takes Kuroro a while to process what the other boy is asking, and when he does, he shakes his head frantically. "No! No, I—here learn. I... run away. Teacher not happy."  By now, he's blushing bright red with embarrassment. He really does need to work on improving his Common._

_Laughing, Kurapika nods in understanding. Kuroro marvels at the sound. He doesn't seem to mind his broken sentences, at least. "Okay, okay. I understand. Can I just call you Chrollo, then? I'm pretty sure it's a common name in this kingdom, right?"_

_"Y-yes," Kuroro confirms, taking a long minute to fully work out what the other is saying._ Chrollo.  _In his language, it means 'leader,' or 'king'. It also happens to be his mother's nickname for him. "Chrollo okay."_

_He's rewarded with another brilliant grin, and Kuroro isn't really sure where the rush of affection comes from._

_Pointing to the flower that Kurapika has been taking care of, he asks, "You like?"_

_"Oh, yes." Kurapika gently runs a finger over one of the leaves. "They are very pretty. Not at all like the flowers I have at home."_

_Kuroro doesn't completely understand the other's words, but he smiles anyway. "Kudu."_

_"Kudu?" the boy echoes._

_"Flower in desert," Kuroro tries to explain. There's a word for it, and a few moments pass before he remembers it. "Rose. Desert Rose."_

_"A desert rose?" Kurapika murmurs to himself, stroking a single vibrant pink petal. "Interesting." Kuroro feels amusement rise up in him as he catches sight of the other's curious expression._

_"Yes. Rose bad," he continues. "Can kill. No eat."_

_Another laugh. "Well, I wasn't planning on eating it, so don't worry."_

_Kuroro finds himself laughing, too. The other's brightness is infectious. Then he hears a faint shout of his name, and he groans. His tutor is probably searching for him outside of the palace, now. He should go before he gets Kurapika in trouble as well._

_"Is your teacher looking for you?" Kurapika asks. Kuroro pouts._

_"Yes. Teacher no good," he replies. " But do not want you be in trouble."  He's about to leave when Kurapika's voice stops him._

_"Wait! Will you come back?" he asks shyly. Kuroro feels his eyebrows raise in surprise. "I do want to learn about the plants here," Kurapika adds quickly._

_Kuroro smiles. "I come back. For you. And for flowers," he promises. Kurapika nods happily, and Kuroro walks away with a feeling of excitement in his chest._

* * *

_Kuroro keeps his promise. Every day, after his lessons, he sneaks into the gardens to meet his new friend. He tells Kurapika about all of the flowers the best he can with his broken sentences, and once he runs out of plants in the garden to explain, he tells the blond about his culture and his peoples. Talking with the Kurta just feels so easy, so right._

_Kurapika does not walk around eggshells with him, not like many of the nobles or servants int he kingdom. Sure, he is under the impression that Kuroro is a simple apprentice of a royal scribe, but still._

_He doesn't have many friends outside of the royal guard, not because of any fault of his own, but because he simply was not_ raised  _to be anything but a contender for the throne. His contact with other children his age was limited, mostly because he was stuck in a classroom most of the day. And when he was not listening to an aging cleric droning on and on about the politics of the region, he was out training with the soldiers in the fields._

_So yes, Kuroro considers his time with Kurapika a welcome break._

_It's about a month into their newfound friendship that Kuroro realizes that he's becoming attached. And becoming attached to anything besides his kingdom and possibly his future spouse is something that his tutors have drilled into him as forbidden._

_His potential as king has bound him into a life that only ends once the succession competition has been completed. If he wins, then he will be able to ascend the throne as the rightful ruler. If he loses, then he is at the mercy of the new king. In previous years, the losers have three possible fates: execution, banishment, or acceptance into court as an adviser. The current king had been generous and chosen the third option, but Kuroro is sure that there is more than one competitor in his year that would gladly kill all of them for the sake of tying up loose ends._

_The way that Kuroro sees it, he only has one choice. He must win the throne. That is the only way that he can possibly keep Kurapika in his life. As king, he can easily invite the blond into his court to be one of his advisers. Kurapika is extremely intelligent, anyway._

_Kuroro resolves to reveal his plans to his friend the very next day, but when he arrives at their usual meeting place, he finds the other boy absent. So he waits. Waits until the sun is well behind sand dunes and the moon has risen to its place in the desert sky. His tutors find him asleep in the garden the next morning, and he finds out that the spring season at court was cut short due to the uncertainty of the weather._

_He is disappointed, but he shrugs it off. He just has to wait for next year. That's all._

* * *

_The Kurtans don't come back the next spring. Nor the one after. His tutors tell him that the weather is bad, but Kuroro sees nothing but sunny skies and promising winds._

_It's not until he reaches his fifteenth year that he realizes that the 'bad weather' is war._

_Something big is about to happen, and he can feel it in the tension that hangs in the air during domestic court._

* * *

_There is a war coming, and Kuroro cannot think of a worse time for the king to fall ill. Perhaps, if the Kakin Empire was not currently breathing down their necks and pressuring them to give up their land, the possible death of their monarch would be better accepted. But as it is, his people are terrified at the possibility of losing their ruler._

_The royal advisers are discussing a premature Succession competition. The_ Ti' Avo.  _Technically, beginning the ceremony now would be ideal. Kuroro, who is one of the youngest competitors, is now sixteen. Of age, in their tradition. Additionally, if Ryuseigai held it now, the transition of power could happen as soon as possible._

_They come to a conclusion. The Ti' Avo will happen now, while they still have the time._

_Kuroro wakes up to a scribe asking him to finalize the details of his will._

_The king dies the next day._

* * *

_Three days later, Kuroro has a crown on his head. His coronation is a somber affair. It's quiet and unofficial. They don't want to let the Kakin Empire know that their king has died, or that they have gained a new one. Still, the Kurtans manage to show up, and they offer their condolences and words of wisdom._

_He sees Kurapika, too, but there is no recognition in those blue eyes when he goes to pay his respects._

_The new king tries to ignore the stab of pain that hits him._

_Kuroro supposes that the past four years have changed his appearance greatly—it has. He has lost the childlike appearance, something that his mother laments as she tugs on his cheek._ 'You look like your father, now,'  _she had said offhandedly. Kuroro had only smiled in response. His father is a mystery to him, but he does not take satisfaction in the fact that he resembles the man that abandoned his mother so long ago._

_Out of the corner of his eye, he studies the blond. Kurapika, too, has changed. His frame is no longer that of child's, but slender and graceful like his people's. His golden hair no longer sticks out at weird angles, either, and Kuroro stuffs down a sudden urge to run his fingers through it. But his smile, so bright and vibrant, is still the same. Kurapika meets his gaze, then, and offers a tentative grin._

_He thinks back to his plans from four year ago and scoffs._

_There's something stirring in his chest, and Kuroro hopes that the warmth inside of him is not a fever._

* * *

  _A few months later, soon after his seventeenth birthday, Kuroro is sailing to the Kurtan kingdom. His people are in danger of succumbing to the Kakin empire's attacks on their borders, and his people are_ starving  _because they've been cut off from trade. As much as he hates placing his problems on other people, he has no other option. If the war continues the way it does... Meteor City will fall within the next season._

 _Lukso is so green that Kuroro almost believes that he has stepped into paradise when he first arrives. Kurapika had told him about the plants in his kingdom, some time ago, but Kuroro had never imagined_ this.  _He feels hope flicker within him, then. Perhaps, with how bountiful the forests are, the Kurtan people have some resources to spare._

_He is greeted with a large feast when he gets to the palace, but he finds that he cannot eat while his people are slowly wasting away at home. He sees Kurapika again, talking with a brunet boy, and he feels his mood lift some._

_His hopes are quickly dashed when the king and the queen adamantly refuse his plea for help._

_"Please," he says, hands trembling under the strain that he has been under for the past weeks, "my people are dying by the day. I-I cannot fight this war alone."_

_The two monarchs seem to soften at his desperation as the translator scrambles to relay the information, but their answer is the same. "It is not our war to get involved in. Our people are happy. We cannot risk the stability we have now. I am sorry."_

_Kuroro is grabbing at the few straws he has left, now. "If you do not want to fight, that is okay. But please, can you at least send resources? We have bronze, copper, we can trade for. They have blocked all other waterways except yours. Please, my kingdom is starving."_

_The king and queen look pained. "We are sorry. But we cannot take the risk. What if the Kakin Empire found out that we were helping you? It is dangerous enough as it is that you are here right now."_

_"But my people—"_

_"We cannot."_

_And just like that, Kuroro knows that his kingdom is doomed. So he leaves quietly, resigned and weary, but not without a small warning._

_"I can buy you a few months, at most. But know that you are the closest kingdom to mine that the Kakin empire has not already taken. I wish you the best."_

_The kind tone that he uses is not for them. It's for the young blond boy that he is sure is listening in from the behind the door._

_The voyage back to his kingdom is nothing but black sails and defeat._

_That night, he lets his mother hold him. It's like being a child again, and he clings to the thought. He is going to lose his kingdom, his people, as his future. But at least, even if it is just for now, he has his mother._

* * *

_Two years later, Kuroro can only watch as a reluctant cease-fire is signed with the Kakin empire. It hardly feels like a victory now. He has lost so much. A quarter of his people are dead. His mother is dead, and on the same day of her death he had lost one of his kingdom's last allies, the Kurtans. It's a blow to his pride, how little they trust him. They blame him for the something that he had no control of. The looks that the Kurtan ambassadors had given him, so full of hate and accusation. He wanted to scream at the unfairness._

_He hadn't even been able to bury his mother's remains._

_Kuroro had thought of asking, but who would believe him, anyway?_

_The final signature is stamped onto the page, and that damn prince gives him a chilling smile. His advisers let out a sigh of relief, clapping him on the back and laughing out of disbelief, but Kuroro feels nothing._

_He still has a kingdom to rebuild. His people are scattered and still starving in the streets, and his borders have been scrambled beyond recognition. Only half of his court remains. Some had died during the attacks, others by Kuroro's own hand._

_How monstrous he must look to his neighboring kingdoms, killing his own nobles?_

_Surely it does not matter to them that said nobles were spies for the Kakin Empire, bribed to tear his kingdom apart brick by brick._

_The rumors that they've spun about him. They make him sick._

_But none of that matters, does it? He still has his kingdom. He has done the impossible; he has beaten out the Kakin Empire, earning his people a little peace._

_He tries not to think of a certain blond whose hatred he has never earned._

* * *

_Kuroro receives no word from the Kurtans for four years. No trade agreements. No appearances in court. Nothing. It seemed that they really did not understand the truth behind their monarchs' death, and their ignorance irritates Kuroro greatly. They cannot look past their own prejudice and hatred to see what is so obvious._

_So when he is presented with a plea for help from them, he laughs in his adviser's face. Pakunoda is not impressed._

_His first instinct is to reject the offer, to spurn their cries for help like they had those years ago, but he thinks better of it. The Kurtan people should not have to suffer because of the mistakes of their previous rulers. Then, he remembers his vow to himself, the one that he had made more than ten years ago._

_Yes, he will help the Kurtans. But on one condition._

* * *

  _Six years is a long time, and Kuroro fully realizes this when Kurapika walks into the room. A hush falls over the assembled court, and he almost smiles at how despite a decade having passed, the Kurtans still manage to fascinate his people. His amusement quickly turns into awe, however, as he catches sight of his future consort._

_The man is striking, with sun-kissed skin peeking out from his bright-colored robes and bright golden hair catching the pale moonlight. His movements are purposeful and graceful, and he almost seems to glide across the floor._

Like a faerie, indeed,  _Kuroro muses to himself. But there is something so unfamiliar in the tension between the Kurtan's shoulders, in the sharp turn of his frown. It's almost like all the lightness and happiness that Kuroro had once known so well has been drained away._

_For one moment, Kuroro feels a flicker of doubt. Is this all worth it?_

_And then the blond looks up, meeting his eyes with his fiery gaze, and Kuroro falls all over again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, now that this is out of the way, I can finally start writing the WEDDING. 
> 
> Added Notes:
> 
> 1\. There is a four year age gap between Kuroro and Kurapika. So yeah, writing some of the childhood scenes was a bit strange, which is why I tried to keep it pretty platonic for a little while. 
> 
> 2\. The Kudu rose is actually a real flower. It's endemic to the Middle East, which is kind of climate that I'm going for in this story. Ish. 
> 
> 3\. So I guess we have to assume that Kuroro had a monstrous glow-up between seeing Kurapika when he was twelve and then at sixteen, which is why Kurapika can't recognize him. Whoops. 
> 
> 4\. Kurapika also never knew Kuroro's real name, so he still thinks that Chrollo, the nice flower guy, is separate from Kuroro, his fiance. Also whoops. 
> 
> Anyway, feel free to ask me any questions about this confusing chapter (comments really motivate me), and I hope that you enjoyed this!
> 
> unreadable0 :)


	7. Man cannot express it...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of three(?) chapters regarding the long-awaited wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha... I was planning to have this chapter out THREE weeks ago, but this chapter was so hard for me to write! I had to rewrite chunks of this four times, and pretty much 60% of this was written at 2am two days ago. I tried to pack this with some world-building, but I really didn't want to overdo it. Special thanks to @thirstykurapika from tumblr for giving me advice and letting me rant about this chapter! Love you lots!
> 
> Anyways, I'm super happy to release at least this dumpster-fire of a chapter for you guys! Please note that I will probably disappear for a little while, because my school starts next week! I will probably still be kind of active on my tumblr, so you can stay updated through there. 
> 
> I hope you like this!
> 
> P.S. I'm in the U.S. for a little while for my birthday and apparently it is Labor Day tomorrow, so happy Labor Day to my American readers!

_"Ah, your under eyes! Kurapika, pisha,_ _have you been sleeping at all?"_

The Kurtan prince just smiled at the maid's worrying. He hadn't slept at all the previous night, and at the crack of dawn he had been dragged out of bed to start the wedding preparations. Still, despite the weariness lurking behind his eyes, he had to admit that having his old servants to talk to was refreshing. Seamlessly, he slipped into his native tongue, wincing slightly as the woman scraped a fine-toothed comb through his hair. 

 _"I'm just missing home,"_ he said dismissively, and the maid's movements halted.  _"Do not worry, Krtya, it is nothing serious."_ The other woman just tutted. 

 _"It is just this place, I am sure. Barbarians, is what they are,"_ she grumbled, running the brush through his tangles with renewed vigor.  _"Have they been treating you well, at least?"_ For some reason, Kurapika felt a surge of defensiveness arise in him. 

 _"They have been more than welcoming,"_ he revealed carefully.  _"The royal guard is unpleasant, sure, but the king is polite and very kind."_

One of the other servants squeaked at the mention of the king, dropping the folded garments she had been holding.  _"The king...?"_ she trailed off nervously.  _"Is it true that he..."_

The implications make Kurapika squirm.  _"No. Absolutely not,"_ he replied sharply. He didn't know why he felt so protective of the other man all of a sudden.  _"He is nothing but a gentleman. We have resolved our past issues. None of the lies they tell about him are true."_ The tone of his voice left no room for argument, and a certain tenseness filled the room. 

Krtya pursed her lips, but said nothing as she began to comb perfumed oil into his hair. Kurapika sighed inwardly. The grudge against his future husband and the people of Meteor city would not thaw easily. 

_"How are things at home?"_

The atmosphere relaxed a bit.  _"You have only been gone for a few days, Kurapika,"_ the maid pointed out, laughing. 

 _"Many things can happen in three days,"_ he protested, memory flashing to his nightmares. 

_"Well, there is nothing new. Except Pairo tearing his hair out from stress, of course."_

Kurapika pretended not to know why.  _"He has nothing to worry about. He does know that, right?"_

The other woman hummed thoughtfully.  _"Your 'adopted brother' has many things to worry about, pisha."_

 _"The very reason that I entered this marriage was to lessen the burden of our kingdom,"_ Kurapika said, shaking his head slightly.  _"It seems to have done the opposite."_

 _"Stop moving,"_ Krtya ordered, before softening.  _"This alliance will help us greatly, do not doubt that. But our people love you, and they cannot help but be afraid that the king will force you or harm you."_

_"He will do no such things."_

Krtya remained silent, but he could almost  _see_ the tight, unbelieving line of her lips. After a few minutes she opened her mouth again, although only to say,  _"You can sit up now. The hair is done."_

Obediently, he straightened. He could hear the younger maids whispering among themselves, but he paid it no mind. Another servant brought forth a tray of small jars filled with a variety of pigments. 

_"Close your eyes."_

A sound of clinking glass was heard, followed by the feel of steady fingers smudging color onto his eyelids. Another pair of hands flicked a wide brush over his cheeks with rouge. Paint, cold against his skin, was traced in intricate patterns down his face. 

The _kasal_.  _Wedding paint._

Traditional for Kurtan weddings. The paint was usually done by close family members, with the older, married relatives passing along advice for a good union as they decorated the bride or groom's skin. If he was at home it would have probably been Pairo cupping his chin, hand shaking with laughter as they swapped stories. But then again, with the way that his advisers had looked at the two of them, maybe not Pairo. 

_"Okay. I am finished."_

Opening his eyes, Kurapika was met with a mirror. 

 _"We had to rush a bit with the kasal, but it will have to do,"_ Krtya told him nervously, brushing away a hair. 

Kurapika nodded mutely, a war of emotions overtaking him as he stared at his reflection. Red and blue and gold swirled on his skin, delicate patterns curling discreetly on his cheeks. He remembered his parents talking about their  _kasals,_ telling him about the ridiculous words of wisdom that their older relatives had given them.  _They did work,_ his mother had admitted, laughing and playfully nudging his father. A pang of loneliness hit him, irrational yet real all the same. There would be no advice for him heading into this union. 

The servants' silence hadn't been out of respect, but simply because there was nothing to say. 

 _"You look so much like your mother,"_ Krtya remarked absently, expression soft and touched with sadness. 

 _"Why? Because I resemble a woman?"_ Kurapika asked peevishly. The other woman gave him an admonishing look. 

 _"Of course not. But, you have your mother's beauty,"_ she said.  _"Be glad of that. Your father was a very good king, but extremely handsome he was not."_

The blond had to fight a smile at that, and he shook his head slightly. 

 _"Come. Let us get you dressed,"_ the maid prompted, accepting the garments from the other servant.  _"We only have a few minutes before the ceremony starts."_

Kurapika swallowed thickly at the thought of the ceremony. After this point, there would be no going back. He would be bound, for the rest of his natural life and whatever came after, to a man that he barely knew. Well, that wasn't exactly fair. There was something oddly familiar about the man that he couldn't quite put a finger on. It was like he missing something, but he'd forgotten what he was looking for in the first place. Krtya sighed quietly as she caught sight of the slight furrow of the prince's brow, but kindly said nothing. 

It was not until the last button had been clasped that she broke the tentative silence.  _"These were your father's, I believe,"_ she said softly, smoothing down his shirt. Kurapika mustered up a faint smile as he glanced at his reflection.

_"I know."_

He'd seen them before, neatly tucked away in a wardrobe where moths and light could not damage it. It looked the same as a remembered. A long shirt dyed bright red and embroidered with gold and blue silk thread, cutting off near the ankles to reveal close-fitting cream trousers. The fabric was light, held in place by a large belt made of thick brocade. Gold buttons trailed up to a high collar. Kurapika could almost imagine his father fumbling awkwardly with the long sleeves, nerves rattling through his system. Anxious to marry the woman he loved. 

He felt a small twist of sadness in his gut. He would not be so lucky. 

A maid came forward with an ornate-looking box, and the melancholy in Kurapika intensified as he drew out his mother's jewelry. Delicate bangles dripping with garnets from the rivers in Lukso, and a simple circlet of gleaming metal to rest on his head. The weight was foreign at his brow, but Kurapika felt grounded by it. At least, wearing the tokens from his parents, he would not enter this marriage alone. 

 _"Oh, do not forget this."_ The maid carefully pinned a delicate pink flower to his robes. 

 _"What is this?"_ Kurapika asked, fingers brushing the petals curiously. 

_"I do not know. The king requested it."_

Before he could question her further, Krtya waved away the rest of the maids and led the blond out into the hall. Kurapika could feel his heart thrumming with apprehension. but his hands were perfectly still underneath his sleeves. At last, the maid stopped, turning to face the prince. 

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but settled instead for a warm smile.  _"I wish the best for you,"_ she said.  _"We all do."_ Krtya squeezed his hand reassuringly. 

 _"Thank you,"_ Kurapika whispered, and he meant it. 

Another smile, this one filled with regret.  _"Now go, my king, and save our people."_

* * *

 Kurapika met Kuroro in front of the throne room doors, and the way that the king's expression brightened at the sight of him did not go amiss.  

"Hello," he greeted cautiously, still not quite sure where they stood after the previous night. 

"My betrothed," the other man replied, the title rolling off of his tongue almost intimately. "You look..." Kuroro said a word that Kurapika didn't understand, but the amount of admiration in his tone made him blush nonetheless. Kurapika was about to respond with his own compliment, because the man really did look quite attractive in his deep navy robes, but then his eyes caught onto a near-identical pink blossom that had been pinned to the king's collar. 

"The flowers," he blurted, "what are they for?" He was sure that he'd read up on all of Meteor City's wedding traditions, but then again, perhaps he'd missed one. 

"Do you like them?" the king asked, and there was a puzzling emotion that edged his words. "They were my favorite from childhood. The _k_ _udu—_ "

"—the desert rose," he finished, surprising the both of them. Kuroro smiled, a slow, almost uncertain thing, and Kurapika was confused as to why such a simple answer could garner such a reaction. 

"Yes. How did you know?"

"I'm not sure." That was a lie. Kurapika wanted to ask, to tell him about a certain dark-haired boy that he had dreamed of the night before who seemed  _so_ familiar, but he held his tongue. It was probably nothing. 

Kuroro's expression dampened slightly, but he recovered before the blond could even notice. "Your favorite is the bromeliad, is it not?"

The prince blinked. "That's right," he admitted. "How did _you_ know?"

There was an odd look in the other's eyes. "Lucky guess," he said, taking a deep breath. "Are you ready?" he asked, offering an arm. 

_Ready? To be married to a foreign man in a foreign land?_

Drawing up a strained smile, Kurapika cocked his head to the side. "I don't know if I'll ever be" —he placed his hand lightly on the other's forearm— "but lead the way,  _betrothed._ "

The king laughed, pushing open the doors. 

* * *

The finality of the situation didn't quite hit him until his lips were forming the very words that would seal his fate. But by then, with the ceremonial paint warm on his fingers and tracing the Kurtan character of binding, it was too late. 

 _"With this mark I pledge my loyalty to you,"_ he enunciated loudly for the assembled court to hear.  _"Now and forever, I swear to be your equal. I swear that I will fight for you, that I will provide for you, and that I will put your life above my own."_ Hand trembling only slightly, he pressed the mark against Kuroro's wrist, the delicate character imprinting clearly onto his skin. The pigment would stay for a few days on both of their arms, a bright red reminder of Kurapika's oath. 

 _"With this mark, I promise to be your shelter,"_ Kurapika continued, fully aware of the translator repeating his words off to the side.  _"No longer will you be cold, for I will be your warmth. No longer will you be angry, for I will be your calm,"_ he said, voice tapering off towards the end.  _ _"_ No longer will you be lonely, for I will be your companion." _

 _"With this mark I am yours, and you are mine."_   

Looking up at Kuroro for the first time, Kurapika felt blinded by the quiet happiness that lingered in the other's eyes. It wasn't fair, he thought foolishly to himself. It wasn't fair how Kuroro could feel so strongly for him in such a short span of time. Didn't he know how hard it was for Kurapika to two sides of the king that he'd been presented with? And yet he had to make it even more difficult. The amount of guilt that seemed to fester in Kurapika's chest... all because he knew that he could not reciprocate those sentiments. Not yet. 

The head priest who was presiding over the ceremony let out a pleased sound before clapping his hands expectantly. At once, another priest came forward with a torch, setting the bronze altar in front of them aflame.  _Ah._ Kurapika had learned about this Ryuseigean tradition prior to his arrival. It was the more ancient of the wedding customs, and the Kurtans had frowned upon it, thinking it barbaric and unclean. Kurapika could only agree with them, but he knew that he had no choice.

The two contenders in the marriage would mix their blood together with water while they exchanged their vows, and then the concoction would be poured into the blessed fire. If the flame went out, then the gods did not approve of the union. If it stayed lit, then the marriage would be considered legitimate on all grounds. Supposedly, the tradition no longer held much legal power anymore, but Kurapika knew more than anyone that the customs of the ancestors were law. 

Kurapika eyed the gilded dagger that the priest was carrying warily, and Kuroro grasped his hand, expression determined. 

"I do not care what happens with that flame," he murmured, scarcely loud enough for the blond to hear, "it will not change my decision to marry you." Kurapika's eyes widened slightly at his declaration. Once again, the depth of the man's affections surprised him. Kuroro stepped back, accepting the blade. Cutting his palm with one decisive stroke, he let a few drops of blood settle in the water. Washing off the metal, the king met his gaze unflinchingly. 

"With my blood I bind myself to you. I offer you my protection, my loyalty, and my love," the king announced, staring at Kurapika with purpose. "I offer everything that I am, in my strength and in my weakness, so that you may do the same."

The sincerity in his tone made Kurapika want to pull away, but he forced his hand to take the knife. He let the dagger slide across his skin, holding it over the offered bowl. The cut stung, but Kurapika barely felt it.

"With my blood I bind myself to you," he said, voice wavering.  _This is it._ "I offer you my wisdom, my compassion, and my strength." Kuroro's expression looked so open, so  _vulnerable_  in that moment,that Kurapika took a stuttering breath. "I offer everything I am, in my happiness and my sorrow, so that you may do the same."

Then the high priest gave a nod, and the liquid was tipped into the altar. The court watched in anticipation as the flames sputtered and crackled, writhing upwards. Once the bowl was drained, the fire returned immediately to its languid stretch upwards. The crowd roared in approval, and Kurapika let out a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. 

Wrapping Kurapika’s hand carefully with white cloth, Kuroro pressed a kiss to the back of it, a pleased smile curling at his mouth. 

Then the priest was shouting something in a language far too old for Kurapika to understand, and suddenly Kuroro drew him closer as the din from the Ryuseigean court exploded. His hands fumbled for a moment on the Kuroro's robes before the king leaned in fully, ducking his head down to capture his lips. Kurapika made a noise of surprise before melting into the kiss. 

It wasn't anything earth-shattering, but it was warm and oddly familiar—the way that the other's mouth moved slowly but surely over his own. After a few short moments, Kuroro pulled away, an almost self-satisfied look on his features. 

"Alright?" he asked, and Kurapika shoved down the urge to smack him.

"I'm alright," he said, any irritation diminishing entirely once he saw that Kuroro was just as affected by the kiss as he was. 

Kurapika forced a smile as he moved to sit down in the throne next to the king's, trying his best to disregard the heavy stares of the Kurtan court. 

It had turned out to be the opposite of his expectations, really. The nobles of Meteor city had no qualms against him with their leader, at least not outwardly. The animosity against the union lied solely in his people, and Kurapika wanted to laugh at the irony of it. 

The high priest, meanwhile, seemed to be completely oblivious to the stark sobriety of the Kurtans, and continued on with his acclamations. Saying something loudly, he gestured towards the king, and Kuroro dipped his head in acknowledgement. Then, spewing out another long string of words, he motioned towards Kurapika. 

Kurapika frowned as the high priest repeated the name and pointed at him. A few of the words sounded vaguely familiar, but when strung together the phrase seemed to get lost in translation. Nonetheless, the audience cheered.  
  
"What is he saying?" he asked, voice hushed. Kuroro turned his head slightly to look at him, expression soft.  
  
"Your title," he explained, taking his hand. "The Selected One of the Emperor; His Most Esteemed Consort."  
  
Ah, so that meant... "There will be others, then?" Kurapika wasn't sure how to feel about the idea of just being the figurehead of a king's long line of consorts. It made him feel slightly irritated that he had to be lowered to such a position.  
  
Kuroro pursed his lips, as if not sure how to phrase his words. "The previous king had many over the years." Kurapika stiffened at that, disappointment pooling in his stomach. He tried to tell himself that he had no reason to be displeased by this, that he should be  _relieved._ After all, that was what he had wanted, was it not? To be in a marriage where he could just conduct his life as normal?  
  
"Oh?" he managed, keeping his tone neutral. "I suppose it would be nice to have company."  
  
The king's expression flickered. "Am I not entertaining enough for you, my love?" he asked jokingly, before continuing. "I do not intend to follow in my predecessor's footsteps."  
  
"You do not?" Kurapika was surprised.   
  
"Does that upset you? That you will have to endure all of my attentions constantly?" he asked, although his tone was serious. Kurapika flushed, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. "No. I do not need anyone else when I have you." Kurapika colored even further at that. "You are more than enough." Averting his eyes, the blond couldn't help but feel slight satisfaction curl in his chest. 

And that only confused him more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew that was a whole lot of stuff to go through... what a roller-coaster!
> 
> Added Notes  
> 1\. Kurapika's wedding attire resembles something like the Chinese changshan... but like a bit more complicated. Kind of like canon Kurtan wear mixed with Han-dynasty era clothing.
> 
> 2\. Kurapika wears his father's wedding clothes because making his own set would have taken too long, and also because the parents are usually the ones who weave them. 
> 
> 3\. The maid addresses Kurapika as 'king', because technically, he is. His coronation hasn't happened so he doesn't have the official title, but in all other respects he is. 
> 
> 4\. The bromeliad is a real flower, indigenous to tropical climates, which is what I picture Lukso to be like.
> 
> 5\. Kurapika's vows were loosely based from old Apache wedding blessings as well as traditional Jewish ring vows. The first set of vows from was the Kurtan wedding custom, in case it wasn't clear (I'm pretty sure it wasn't, whoops.)
> 
> 6\. We're going to assume that Kurapika trained for all of this wedding stuff BEFORE he left his kingdom.
> 
> 7\. Kuroro didn't do any of the Kurtan vows because he can't speak the language. whoops.
> 
> 8\. The Kurtans are present at the ceremony too, although they didn't appear very much. Just picture them glowering in the back :)
> 
> 9\. I tried to do some googling for exact royal titles, but I couldn't find anything... so I just used a super circuitous title that sounded vaguely stuffy?
> 
> General Notes (because I have a lot to say)
> 
> 1\. Next chapter will see the post-wedding ceremony with conversations with Pairo/probably the Phantom Troupe
> 
> 2\. There will also be more Kurtan culture next chapter, so be prepared!
> 
> 3\. Sorry if this chapter seemed a little jumpy and abrupt--it was a royal pain to complete, and there were just some sections that weren't working out... I don't know, I'm going into a funk where my English decides to up and die on me. 
> 
> 4\. Hopefully the vows weren't too terribly cheesy. I kind of cringed when I was editing it, but then I was like 'fuck it' and kept them anyway. 
> 
> 5\. I have Kurapika's wedding attire design up on my tumblr (@unreadable0) because I realized that I didn't do a good job explaining it here, so if you need a reference...
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know what you think!
> 
> buckets of love,  
> unreadable0 :)


	8. The eye is not satisfied with seeing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurapika faces what could have been, while Kuroro's inner demons are revealed. Rating switched to M!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! It's been like half a year since I last updated! Rereading this work makes me really embarrassed by how sugary I made it, so I'm trying to reestablish some darker undertones to carry throughout the plot! Unfortunately, I fell into some trope traps to get there, but what can you do? Anyway, enjoy this chapter and heed to bumped up warning! skip the last few paragraphs if you want to avoid some very mild sexual content (I have no idea what I'm doing help).

After the ceremony, Kurapika found himself being led about the throne room, greeting nobles and diplomats alike that he would surely forget over the course of the night. Anxiety twisted in the pit of his stomach as he felt the heavy eyes of the Kurtan court watching his every move. Their judgement was out of concern, of course, but Kurapika felt stifled by it. Kuroro, on the other hand, appeared oblivious, too wrapped up in the chaos of it all. In an effort to distract himself the blond turned to his new husband.

“Why are there so few noble families in Ryuseigai?” he asked, eyes sweeping across the grand hall. Under his hand, the kings muscles tensed minutely. “If you don’t mind indulging my curiosity, that is,” Kurapika added hastily.

Kuroro relaxed, although Kurapika could tell that he was still on edge. “It is not something that should be explained now,” he started, and the words held tightness. “Ryuseigai used to have many families tied to the royal line, but a great deal of them were lost in the first war.”

Kurapika knew that he should have stopped pressing the subject there, but curiosity got the better of him. “Entire lines? Forgive me, I did not know.” There was doubt nestled into his tone, and the king drew his lips into a tight line.

“I’d prefer not to discuss such a heavy matter on our wedding day,” Kuroro replied diplomatically, coming off more as a command than a suggestion. There was an edge of darkness, too, in his voice, like there had been when Kurapika had first met him. Wisely, the Kurta took the hint this time, although he couldn’t stop the slight flare of suspicion and hurt at the dismissal.

“Very well. What would you like to discuss, then?”

The other man must have sensed his annoyance. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by someone clearing their throat.

All of Kurapika’s anxieties melted away as he looked up to see Pairo, dressed in the vivid red that was so typical of Kurtan weddings. The brunet smiled, eyes alight with playfulness as he executed a needlessly-elaborate bow.

“I must convey my most sincere congratulations, your majesty,” Pairo said in heavily-accented Ryuseigean. Then turning to Kurapika, he pretended to roll his eyes, slipping into their native tongue. “ _Oh, and I guess you too,_ pisha.”

Kurapika glared at him in warning, but the smile threatening to spill at his lips killed most of its effect.

“You must be the brother, then?” Kuroro asked.

“Adopted,” Kurapika cut in before he could stop himself. The king lifted his eyebrows.

Pairo grinned, although there was an unexplained sadness to it. “Yes. Adopted. Small time ago. For the convenience.” Pairo met his gaze, eyes searching. He cleared his throat again. “ _I would like to have a dance with you, if I am allowed,”_ he said, eyes flickering to Kuroro.

Kurapika swallowed nervously. _“And how would that look? I am newly married, Pairo.”_

The unreadable expression was back. _“Do not worry, we will just be two adopted brothers celebrating, is all,”_ he reassured him, an odd laugh falling from his lips.

The blond’s eyes narrowed. _“Our whole kingdom knows that that is a lie. We were never raised to be brothers; you know that.”_

Pairo’s smile wavered, wistful.

_“I do.”_

A lump was forming at the back of his throat. _“One dance. That is all that propriety  will allow.”_ Turning to Kuroro, he smiled apologetically. “I would like to dance with my brother, if you will excuse me.”

“Of course,” Kuroro replied, although he eyed the two of them with thinly-veiled suspicion.

Grinning, Pairo took his hand, pulling him back into the crowd. The Kurtan man clapped his hands, calling out to the court musicians in their native language. A lively, familiar tune began to play.

“ _Pairo,”_ Kurapika said, drawing out the syllables, “ _how did you_ _…?"_

The other just smiled. _“A Kurtan wedding is not complete without a Kurtan dance, no?”_

Grabbing Pairo’s hands, Kurapika allowed himself to pretend that he was at just another celebration back home. Slipping into the quick rhythm with ease, he tried to imagine that he was just dancing with Pairo on a festival day, that the fine cloth he was wearing was instead homespun linen.

But there was a finality in Pairo’s movements, a strange distance between them that neither of them dared to bridge. The other’s gaze, locked in his own, carried a heaviness that Kurapika could not avoid. Still, the two of them did not falter, twirling around each other—staying just out of reach—and their garments glimmered like two flickers of fire in the lowlight. 

Once the song ended, Kurapika spun fluidly to a stop in front of the other man before he noticed the stares of the crowd.

The Ryuseigeans stood in awe of the performance.

The Kurtans looked on with a kind of sobriety that sank into Kurapika’s veins like ice.

He knew what they were thinking.

Pairo was dressed in the customary shade of red of weddings, of course, but the gold stitching was just a little too complex to pass as the garment of an adopted brother. The brunet still wore a heavy ring of bright green jade, the mark of suitor. The man had worn it since Kurapika’s parents had been killed, but the blond had never thought much of it. He had understood the sentiment attached to it, but had never entertained the thought that the other had worn it of his own volition. Now, however, its meaning weighed heavily on his chest. One last dig from the Kurtans, the last, silent objection to the union. 

The Kurtans glared at the king of Meteor City.

 _Look what you have taken from us,_ their eyes seemed to say.

Pairo pulled him close, passing it off as a platonic gesture.

 _“I just wanted this last moment with you,”_ he said lowly, _“to entertain the fantasy of what might have been.”_ Smiling again, resigned now, Pairo kissed his cheek. _“Now go, Curapikt, and save our kingdom.”_

Bowing once more, Pairo disappeared into the crowd, leaving the blond to process his words. Perhaps, if there had been no war, he would have… he stopped the thoughts before they went further. Now was not the time. 

Kurapika returned to his husband’s side, and he was unsurprised to see his Royal Guard crowding around him.

Kuroro smiled, and when Kurapika came close enough he pulled him flush to his side, a hand warm at the younger’s hip. _Ah._ The stares had not gone amiss.

“That was quite a performance,” the tall blond guard remarked. There was a question in the raise of his brow, and Kurapika shrugged.

“My brother was dancing with me for good luck, as he is the last of my family that lives,” he answered tactfully.

“Brother?” The one with the samurai sword blanched.

The large one—Uvogin—looked like he wanted to say something inappropriate.

“Adopted brother, my consort means to say,” Kuroro cut in, tone eerily even.

A chorus of ‘oh’ went through the group.

Uvogin still looked like he wanted to say something inappropriate.

The king frowned and shifted his void of gaze to Kurapika. Offering his elbow, he said abruptly, “Take a walk with me, my love. The desert is warm tonight, and I do not want to waste it.”

Confused, Kurapika followed him.

* * *

Occasionally, Kuroro felt the old anger bubbling up inside him. The wrath and fury that had kept him alive all these years. The need to grab and take and _hurt._

He’d succumbed to it only a few times throughout his life. The first had been when he was still a child, when the guards had first threatened to separate him from his mother in order to be trained to be king. Only a broken arm had resulted from that, after the promise that he would not be taken from his mother. The second had been during the Ti’Avo, when his friend had been slain in front of his very eyes. The scent of blood did not wash off of him for days. The third had been when he learned that his mother had died. He had almost killed the guard who had delivered the news. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the urge to rip and tear had been too great. His temper had spiraled from there.

A part of him had been ashamed of what he had done, but the darker, colder part of him had enjoyed it, and that was what scared him the most.

There had been many times where he had flirted with such emotions, walked the line between temper and manic fury, but he was always careful. This was one of those times, watching the brunet “brother” of his consort stare at Kurapika with such shameless lust and longing. His hands itched to be wound tight around the brunet’s neck, to press and press until the man swung helplessly in his grasp.

_No._

The thoughts were quiet, though, and easy to silence. The darkness passed, retreating like a wave from a shore and leaving him gasping for sanity. Nevertheless, Kuroro kept a blank expression on his face. He  would hide this part of himself as best he could, for his consort's sake. 

* * *

“I suppose that I do not want to know the semantics of the whole ‘brother’ situation, do I?”

Kurapika pursed his lips. The two of them were leaning against the railing of one of the balconies overlooking the garden. In the darkness he could only see the dim outline of the other man, silhouetted in the lights of the palace, but the blond could sense him just an arm length’s away. The desert night was warmer than usual, but still too cold for Kurapika’s thin robes. He moved closer to the other’s warmth.

“We are childhood friends, is all,” he replied carefully. Kuroro let out a disbelieving scoff, and Kurapika scowled. “It is no use dwelling on the past, _your majesty._ What is done is done, and I am here now. That is all that should matter.” There was a hint of bitterness in his words, but Kurapika didn’t bother to amend it. 

“So I do _not_ want to know,” the king muttered under his breath, but schooled himself quickly. He drew the shorter man closer, brushing his lips against the blond’s temple. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to upset you on our wedding night.”

Kurapika stiffened, not ready to let go of his annoyance, but then leaned into the touch. There was no mockery in the other’s tone.

“You didn’t. Upset me, that is,” Kurapika said. “But thank you.”

The two of them stayed like this for few more moments before Kuroro broke away.

“You should return now. I do think your servants will be looking for you,” he said awkwardly. There was heavy implication in what went unsaid.

“Ah,” Kurapika managed. “Will you walk me?”

“No.” Kuroro looked out into the desert sky. “I wish to clear my head for little while longer.”

Kurapika felt relieved, for some reason. Nerves jumped up and down in his stomach. “Very well. I shall see you later tonight, then.”

The king nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to his knuckles. “I look forward to it.”

The blond’s pulse drummed a little faster at the heated edge in Kuroro’s words as he turned back to the palace.

* * *

Sure enough, once Kurapika entered the banquet hall, a flurry of servants ushered him away. To his surprise, they did not lead him back to his own quarters. The room they herded him into was much more grand, with polished tile glittering with jewel mosaics and heavy bronze beams that glowed warmly in the candlelight.

He could only presume that these were the king’s chambers.

The servants barked at each other in rapid Ryuseigaen, and Kurapika found himself bathed and plucked and combed in rapid succession. Expensive cosmetics were applied with  light hand, and perfumes were dabbed behind his ears. All the while he couldn’t help the anxiety that twisted in his gut. All throughout the room were scattered reminders of what was to come. Intricate vases of scented oils were placed by the bedside, and an array of fruit and wine was placed in the corner of the room, so that the occupants would not have to venture out of their chambers the entire night.

Kurapika’s fingers tapped restlessly at his knee, and a maid kept tutting when she caught him worrying his lip. It was not that he was inexperienced in the matters of the bedroom, but he would have preferred that he trusted Kuroro more beforehand. 

Soon he was dressed in a thin pair of underclothes, the shirt’s fabric so thin that it left barely anything from the waist up to the imagination. The older servant shooed the other maids away before turning to him.

“Are you nervous?” she asked, speaking slowly enough so that he could understand.

“Terribly so. I do not know if I can do this, _izeba,_ ” he replied.

The older woman nodded sagely. “I may have something that will help. Some mulled wine will help your nerves settle, no?” she offered, winking.

Kurapika didn’t know what the wink was for, but he nodded anyway.

The servant came back with a cup of warm, spiced wine, which he accepted with thanks.

“It is no problem, little one,” she assured him, smiling. “But I urge you to drink only the amount that will put you at ease. Too much will..." she trailed off into strange vocabulary. 

Kurapika dipped his head in acknowledgement, and the servant quietly left the room. Raising the the wine to his lips, he was surprised to find it sweet, like honey, and with an herbal taste that was unfamiliar to him. It was only when he had drank two thirds of the cup that he remembered the woman’s warning, and he placed the wine down.

After a few moments, he began to feel more relaxed, more loose. It wasn't quite the inebriated feeling of being drunk, but close. It was as if he had a fever, if not for the fact that his body thrummed with life, pulse racing with quiet anticipation. A fire burned in his chest, warming and scalding at the same time.

_What had been in that drink?_

Before he could entertain the thought longer, the doors banged open.  Kurapika couldn’t get a good view of the hallway, but he could hear the Royal Guard laughing and shouting outside. Raucous exclamations and cheers sounded before Kuroro was shoved into the room. The dark-haired man called back to his friends, embarrassed, before shutting the doors.

To Kurapika’s surprise, the king’s hair was mussed and he looked noticeably disheveled from all the roughhousing of his companions. His pale skin, too, was flushed a light pink from drink. For some reason, the fever thrumming under Kurapika’s skin burned hotter at the sight.

At once, Kuroro caught sight of him, and his eyes darkened with a hunger that Kurapika fully understood.

Wordlessly, the other man pulled off ceremonial outer robes and unlaced his boots until only his underclothes remained. Slowly, _cautiously,_ as if he was approaching a frightened animal, Kuroro came closer to the bed, heavy gaze drinking in the sight of the blond.

Feeling anxious for a completely different reason that before, Kurapika stood up to meet him halfway. Kuroro’s hands shook as they slid up his shoulders, fingers tracing the tattoos found there with newfound amazement, to cup his cheek. Whether the hesitation was out of nervousness or barely-restrained lust, Kurapika didn’t know.

Softly, Kuroro kissed his forehead, murmuring ancient phrases under his breath. Kurapika had half the mind to ask him what they meant, but then the man captured his lips. The kiss started off slow, letting Kurapika set the pace, but the blond could sense the other’s impatience. It was not at all like the kiss they had shared at the ceremony; this one held a kind of heated expectation with it. Kuroro deepened the kiss, and he welcomed it.

“You taste sweet,” Kuroro murmured when they came up for air. “Why?”

Kurapika pulled him back down in response. The mantra of _want, want, want_ in his head had transformed into a consuming _need,_ so intense that Kurapika was unsure what was wrong with him. 

Hands slid down from his face to explore, delving underneath his thin shirt. Cool hands came in contact with Kurapika’s super-heated skin, and Kurapika couldn’t help the low groan that escaped, the noise sounding needily in the charged air.

Kuroro shuddered at the sound, and just like that a dam seemed to have broken. Curious exploration turned into firm hands teasing the wide expanse of skin they were presented with. Lips found their way down the soft curve of Kurapika’s neck, leaving bright red marks in their wake. His breathing hitched as Kuroro kissed low on his throat and he moved even closer, savoring the consequent hiss of pleasure from the other man as he pressed hard against Kurapika’s thigh. Kuroro's hand traveled further down to grip the firm swell of the other's ass. 

“Please,” Kuroro bid, breathing harshly. A string of foreign curses followed and Kuroro palmed the blond’s own growing erection through the thinness of his underclothes, eliciting a wet gasp. The unspoken question hung in the air for split second. Kurapika placed a kiss on the other's neck, thoughts hazy with lust. 

“Yes,” Kurapika replied quietly,  _raggedly,_ into Kuroro's shoulder. “Yes.”

Kuroro didn’t mince words, tipping him back onto the bed before kissing him again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah that was a mess! it's like 2 am where I am and writing this was a doozy! not beta-read so please excuse my mistakes! 
> 
> Added notes: 
> 
> 1\. After the death of Kurapika's parents, he was able to entertain his preferred suitors (all men) instead of BEING the suitor. 
> 
> 2\. Kuroro is kind of messed up. Kinda. The canon, cold-blooded murderer personality is kind of buried within him, exacerbated by trauma.
> 
> 3\. Kuroro's violent behavior will set up an important point in the story. If I can even get there, that is. 
> 
> 4\. This story was like super sweet to the point where I cringe a lot through it, reading a few months later, so I'm trying to make it less cliche. I don't think it's working, but eh, I tried.
> 
> 5\. Uhhhh smut... yeah I can't write it. It will continue into the next chapter (will they or won't they is the question) and throughout the story, so please pray for me so that I don't make you all cringe too much
> 
> Anyway, I hope you like this chapter! Feel free leave some comments or questions you have (comments are my FUEL!!)!
> 
> Lots of love,  
> unreadable0
> 
> P.S. follow me on tumblr @unreadable0 for extra content/sneak peeks!

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Common is the name for language spoken throughout this AU, because I'm super uncreative.  
> 2) Ryuseigai is a desert by the sea, and Lukso (the Kurtan kingdom) is in a rain forest.  
> 3) Basically, Kuroro has kind of had his eye on Kurapika for a while, but that will be unraveled later on  
> 4) Characterization was pretty off its mark, because I've kind of forgotten how these two interact, as well as how to write at all, so apologies for that!  
> 5) Kurapika is 19 and Kuroro is like 23ish here so... yeah, everything will be legal I promise ;)  
> 6) This chapter was super boring, because I suck at writing first chapters, but if I get the motivation to continue this it will get better, I promise.  
> 7) Next chapters (if there are going to be any) will pretty much be backstory on exactly what happened to Kurapika's parents as well as Kurapika starting to tolerate our friendly neighborhood murderer.  
> Anyways, please let me know what you think about this one in the comments--should I continue it? This one was just for fun in between my bigger projects, but I have some ideas bumping around for it, so we'll see. Thank you all for reading!
> 
> \- lots of love,  
> unreadable0


End file.
